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waste  *  *m 


PRINCETON,    N.    J. 


(vision . . .  TTr.. Trrr^. . . . 


Shelf. 


Division 

Section 

Number 


',      '/Ct-L*^ 


Park-Street  Pulpit 


SERiMONS 


PREACHED    BY 


WILLIAM   H.   H.   MURRAY. 


.EM'utsm. 


BOSTON : 
JAMES   R.   OSGOOD   AND   COMPANY, 

(LATE  TICKNOR  &  FIELDS,  AND  FIELDS,  OSGOOD,  &  CO.) 
l87I. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1871, 

By  JAMES  R.  OSGOOD  &  CO., 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Boston : 
Stereotyped  and  Printed  by  Rand,  A  very,  &*  Co. 


CONTENTS. 


Subject.— The  Duty  of  improving  the  Means  of  Grace    . 
"Looking  diligently,   lest    any  man  fail   of  the    grace  of  God."  — 
Heb.  xii.  15. 


Subject.  —  God's  Feelings  toward  Man 20 

"  But  when  he  was   a  great  way  off  his  father  saw  him,  and  had 

compassion,  and  ran,  and  fell  on  his   neck,  and  kissed  him."  — 

Luke  xv.  20. 


Topic.  —  Christian  Faith  :  its  Nature  and  Efficiency  . 

"  In  the  last  day,  the  great  day  of  the  feast,  Jesus  stood  and  cried,  If 
any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me,  and  drink.  He  that  believeth 
on  me,  as  the  Scripture  hath  said,  out  of  his  heart  shall  flow 
rivers  of  living  water."— John  vii.  37,  38. 


Subject.— Household  Religion;  or,  The  Religious  Education 
of  Children 63 

"  Peace  be  to  this  house."— Luke  x.  5. 


Subject.— Positiveness  of  Belief:  its  Need  and  Efficiency  .     81 

"  That  we  be  no  more  children,  tossed  to  and  fro,  and  carried  about  with 
every  wind  of  doctrine,  by  the  sleight  of  men,  and  cunning  crafti- 
ness, whereby  they  lie  in  wait  to  deceive."— Ephes.  iv.  14. 

Subject.— Church-Membership:  what  constitutes  Fitness  for 
it?  and  when  should  it  be  entered  upon?      .      .      .      .101 

"  Then  they  that  gladly  received  his  word  were  baptized;  and  the  same 
day  there  were  added  unto  them  about  three  thousand  souls."— 
Acts  ii.  41. 

iii 


IV  CONTENTS. 

Subject.— The  Relation  of  Sanctification  to  the  Will  .       .    122 
"  Work  out  your  own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling."  —Phil.  ii.  12. 

Subject.  — Christ  the  Deliverer 139 

"  Stand  fast,  therefore,  in  the  liberty  wherewith  Christ  hath  made  us  free ; 
and  be  not  entangled  again  with  the  yoke  of  bondage."  —  Gal.  v.  1. 

Subject.  — Divine  Justice 158 

"  Justice  and  judgment  are  the  habitation  of  Thy  throne." — Ps.  lxxxix.  14. 

Subject.— The  Judicial  Element  in  Human  Nature  and  Prac- 
tice         179 

"  And  I  saw  the  dead,  small  and  great,  stand  before  God;  and  the  books 
were  opened;  and  another  book  was  opened,  which  is  the  book  of 
life;  and  the  dead  were  judged  out  of  those  things  which  were  writ- 
ten in  the  books,  according  to  their  works."  —  Rev.  xx.  12. 

Subject.  — Death  a  Gain 197 

"To  die  is  gain."  — Phil.  i.  21. 

Subject.— Wickedness  of  the  Heart 216 

"The  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things,  and  desperately  wicked:  who 
can  know  it  ?  "  —  Jer.  xvii.  9. 

Subject.— Resistance  of  Evil 235 

"  Submit  yourselves,  therefore,  to  God.  Resist  the  Devil,  and  he  will  flee 
from  you."— James  iv.  7. 

Subject.— Living  for  God's  Glory 251 

"  Whether,  therefore,  ye  eat  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do  all  to  the 
glory  of  God."— 1  Cor.  x.  31. 

Subject.— Ministerial  Vacations:  their  Necessity  and  Value,   267 

"  Let  him  that  is  taught  in  the  Word  communicate  unto  him  that  teacheth 
in  all  good  things."  — Gal.  vi.  6, 

Topic— Personal  Relation  of  Christians  to  Christ  .      .      .  287 
"Christ in  you,  the  hope  of  glory."— Col.  i.  27. 


CONTENTS.  V 

Subject.— Death  a  Gain 805 

•'To  die  is  gain."— Phil.  i.  21. 

'opic.— Business-Life:  its  Uses  and  Dangers 323 

"Not  slothful  in  business."  — Rom.  xii.  11. 


Subject.— Value   of   Personal  Acquaintance   and  Contact 
with  the  Vicious  as  the  Means  for  their  Reformation     .  339 

"  But  their  scribes  and  Pharisees  murmured  against  his  disciples,  saying, 
Why  do  ye  eat  and  drink  with  publicans  and  sinners  ?"  —  Luke  v.  30. 


Topic— -Love  the  Source  of  Obedience 356 

'  •  If  a  man  lore  Me,  he  will  keep  My  words." —John  sir.  23. 


SABBATH  MORNING,  MARCH  5,  1871. 

=f 


SERMON. 


SUBJECT.-THE   DUTY  OF   IMPROVING   THE   MEANS  OF  GRACE. 

"Looking  diligently,  lest  any  man  fail  of  the  grace  of  God." 
Heb.  xii.  15. 

THIS  passage,  in  its  original  application,  refers  es- 
.  pecially  to  the  converted,  but  may  with  equal 
clearness  and  pungency  be  addressed  to  all  who  stand 
in  moral  relations  to  God.  I  shall  consider  it  in 
its  widest  significance,  and  make  it  a  basis  and  start- 
ing-point, from  which  I  shall  urge  upon  all  of  you, 
and  especially  such  of  you  as  have  not  as  yet  a  hope  in 
Christ,  the  duty  of  leaving  nothing  undone  whereby 
the  hope  may  be  obtained.  I  feel  that  many  of  you 
are  peculiarly  situated.  You  are  in  that  border-land 
which  lies  between  worldliness  and  spirituality,  in 
doubt  whether  to  advance  or  go  back.  You  are  not 
as  bad  as  you  have  been,  nor  as  good  as  you  should 
be  ;  and  I  wish  this  morning  to  call  your  attention  to 
certain  considerations  why  you  should  not  remain 
where  you  are.  I  hope  to  make  it  appear  to  some  of 
you  that  you  should  go  on  until  you  have  come  to  a 
full  and  perfect  Christian  state. 

1.  There  is  a  certain  class  of  men  who  come  to 


2  THE   DUTY   OF  IMPROVING 

the  surface,  and  advertise  themselves  in  every  revival 
period  ;  who  say,  "  Why  need  I  go  to  a  prayer-meet- 
ing ?  Can't  I  read  my  Bible,  and  feel  my  guilt,  and 
ask  for  pardon,  just  as  well  at  home  as  in  the  vestry 
nf  the  church?  The  one  place  is  just  the  same  as  the 
other."  And  in  this  way  they  put  aside  kindly-meant 
invitation  and  solicitude  in  their  behalf. 

Now,  I  desire  to  say  a  few  words  to  you  in  this  con- 
gregation who  belong  to  this  class,  and  to  that  greater 
number  outside  of  this  audience  to  whom,  in  the 
providence  of  God,  these  words  may  come,  who 
use  the  same  excuse  to  stave  off  the  Christian  im- 
portunity of  those  who  are  anxious  in  respect  to  the 
welfare  of  your  souls.  Does  it  not  seem,  at  times, 
queer  to  you,  that  people  who  are  too  sensible  for 
you  to  imagine  insane  should  be  more  anxious  about 
your  welfare  than  you  are  yourselves  ? 

Now,  then,  I  ask  you,  friend,  if  the  prayer-meet- 
ing is  the  same  as  your  home,  why  do  you  refuse  so 
persistently  to  go  to  it  ?  Why  do  you  so  dislike  the 
place  of  confession  and  prayer  and  exhortation  ? 
Why  do  you  dodge  and  avoid  a  place  which  is  the 
same  as  your  home  ?  Why  do  you  put  ingenu- 
ity upon  the  rack  to  invent  excuses  for  not  going  ? 
What  is  the  cause  of  that  uneasiness  which  disturbs 
you  as  the  prayer-meeting  night  draws  near  ?  Why 
do  you  dislike  to  have  your  wife  or  mother  or  sister 
or  friend  ask  if  you  will  not  go  to  meeting  with  her 
to-night  ? 

My  friend,  do  not  deceive  3rourself;  do  not  flat- 
ter yourself   that  you  can    deceive    God's    people. 


THE   MEANS  OF  GRACE. 


They  have  all  passed  through  the  same  shameful  and 
bitter  experience.  They  all  avoided  the  Spirit  once, 
and  strove  to  stop  their  ears  to  the  invitation  of  peace, 
as  you  are  now  doing.  They  all  resisted  the  means 
of  grace,  and  came  out  of  the  power  and  dominion  of 
sin  tardily,  and  only  as  pushed  along  by  the  strong- 
handed  mercy  of  Christ.  We  all  know  your  feelings, 
therefore ;  for  they  have  been  our  own.  We  know, 
for  our  eyes  have  been  opened  so  that  we  see,  the 
cause  and  motive  of  your  disinclination.  You  do  not 
desire  to  go  to  the  prayer-meeting,  because  it  is  a 
prayer-meeting.  You  know  and  feel  that  there  is  a 
difference  between  that  room  of  prayer  and  your 
own  house,  and  that  is  why  you  stay  at  your  own 
house.  Why  not  be  honest  (pardon  me  if  I  seem  to 
rudely  impeach  your  motives),  —  why  not  be  honest," 
I  repeat,  and  frankly  say,  "I  dare  not  go  to  the 
prayer-meeting :  the  tide  sets  all  one  way  there  ;  and, 
if  I  should  put  myself  into  it,  I  should  be  borne 
along,  and  compelled,  as  it  were,  to  become  a  Chris- 
tian ;  and  I  am  not  ready  to  become  a  Christian  yet "  ? 
I  do  not  say  that  you  shall  go  to  the  place  of  prayer ; 
I  do  not  say  that  you  shall  be  converted :  you  are 
master  of  your  own  movements.  I  would  not  place 
the  weight  of  a  finger  upon  the  sceptre  of  your  inde- 
pendence. What  the  Spirit  may  not  do,  it  is  not  for 
man  to  attempt ;  but  I  do  insist  that  you  shall  deal 
honestly  with  the  Holy  Ghost.  You  can  say,  "  No,  I 
won't  be  converted,"  if  you  will ;  but  I  insist  that  you 
shall  say  it  directly  to  his  face,  and  in  just  so  many 
words. 


4  THE   DUTY   OF   IMPROVING 

Woe  unto  me  if  I  preach  not  the  gospel  so  as  to 
uncover  all  }rour  excuses,  so  as  to  reveal  the  wicked- 
ness of  the  crouching  motive  that  fears  to  show  it- 
self, and  cause  every  act  of  your  mind  to  stand  forth, 
perceived  of  yourself  and  others,  in  the  clear  light 
of  a  deliberation  intelligent  and  decided  as  it  is 
wicked ! 

In  further  explanation  and  enforcement  of  this 
point  (for  some  of  you  may  not  realize  the  reason 
and  philosophy  of  the  means  of  grace),  I  suggest, — 

2.  That  the  mind  is  subject  to  motives.  Every 
decision  has  a  parental  cause  back  of  it.  Every  res- 
olution is  in  the  line  of  sequence.  Something  has 
preceded.  It  had  a  bulbous  state  before  it  flowered 
out.  The  mind  decides  from  the  same  reason  that 
a  stone  mounts  into  the  air :  it  is  impelled  upward 
to  the  point  of  decision  by  a  power  acting  under- 
neath it.  No  man  becomes  a  Christian,  no  person 
changes  the  order  of  his  life  for  .the  better,  because 
compelled  by  the  arbitrary  exercise  of  God's  power, 
(rod  deals  with  souls  very  like  as  he  deals  with  flow- 
ers. He  puts  a  pressure  but  no  violence  upon  them. 
His  touch  is  the  touch  of  gentleness.  He  comes  to 
a  tree,  and  sifts  his  dews  all  over  it.  He  does  this 
night  after  night,  until  every  bud  is  moist,  and  a  half 
disposition  to  yield  has  come  to  the  hard  edges  of  the 
outer  leaves.  Then  come  the  rays  of  the  sun  with 
their  sweet  enticements, — a  lover  for  every  bud,  —  and 
they  say,  each  to  his  own,  "  Open  unto  me,  my  be- 
loved, my  undenled."  And  after  a  little  time  of  delay, 
as  if  every  flower  would  be  true  to  the  modesty  of 


THE  MEANS   OF   GRACE.  5 

Nature,  they  all  open  ;  and  the  orchard  is  bright  with  \ 
the  beauty  of  their  faces,  and  rich  with  the  fragrance 
of  their  breath.  And  it  is  just  so  in  the  kingdom  of 
grace.  While  God  puts  no  violence,  he  does  put  a 
pressure  upon  its  subjects,  strong  as  it  is  sweet.  We 
are  not  compelled,  we  are  inclined ;  we  are  not 
dragged,  we  are.  enticed;  we  are  not  driven,  we 
are  persuaded ;  (l  and  there  are  times  and  places 
when  and  where  these  gracious  influences  are  felt 
more  strongly  than  at  others.  There  is  a  spot  on  my 
farm  —  a  hillside,  with  a  southern  exposure  —  where  I 
shall  plant  my  orchard  and  my  berries  and  my  flow- 
ers, because  the  sun  greets  it  with  its  earliest  ray,  and 
lights  it  with  its  retiring  beam.  And  I  hope  some 
day  to  sit  in  my  porch,  and  have  the  mingling  per- 
fumes of  all  that  slope  borne  up  on  the  current  of 
the  warm  south  to  my  nostrils.  And  so  in  the  wide 
ranges  of  God's  husbandry,  where  are  soils  and  cli 
mate  for  every  possible  virtue,  there  are  favorable 
localities  and  southern  exposures  to  the  Spirit,  where 
every  thing  blossoms  earliest  in  youth,  and  where  the, 
Indian  summer  of  Christian  experience  lingers  long- 
est in  the  changeful  atmosphere.  And  this  law  is  no 
more  peculiar  to  the  realm  of  the  soul  than  to  the 
realm  of  the  mind.  Why  should  a  child  attend 
school  ?  Why  build  colleges  ?  Why  collect  libra- 
ries ?  Why  group  the  paintings  and  models  of  the 
great  artists  of  the  world  ?  Why  cannot  your  child 
be  as  well  taught,  why  cannot  his  judgment  in  mat- 
ters of  art  become  as  discriminating,  his  taste  as 
refined,  at  home,  as  in  these  places  so  ostentatiously 


6  THE  DUTY   OF  IMPROVING 

set  apart  for  his  service  ?  Because,  I  respond  (and 
you  all  anticipate  the  answer), — because  a  man  is 
influenced  by  his  surroundings.  There  is  an  influ- 
ence in  association,  an  inspiration  in  occasion,  a 
power  obtained  by  the  collocation  and  concentration 
of  means  and  agencies,  which  the  dullest  in  appre- 
hension must  see  and  acknowledge.  The  college  is 
dedicated  to  learning  ;  its  walls  were  reared  in  the 
interest  of  culture  ;  its  associations  are  all  classic  ; 
and  the  atmosphere  of  the  place,  as  we  say,  is 
literary.  These  things  are  not  without  their  influ- 
ence upon  the  student's  mind.  They  quicken  and 
stimulate  his  ambition ;  they  sustain  his  noblest 
aspiration  ;  and  in  after-years,  as  he  looks  backward 
to  his  college-days,  he  discovers  that  more  potent  and 
blessed  upon  him  than  all  the  positive  accretions  of 
knowledge  was  this  silent,  subtile  influence  born 
of  the  surroundings  and  spirit  of  the  place. 

So  it  is,  friends,  with  the  sanctuary  and  room  of 
prayer.  You  who  would  put  yourselves  in  the  best 
position  for  spiritual  development,  make  your' regular 
visitations  to  each  ;  if  you  would  have  knowledge  of 
your  sins,  go  where  that  knowledge  is  imparted ;  if 
your  conscience  is  dead  and  inoperant,  go  where  it 
may  be  brought  in  connection  with  the  Spirit,  and 
shocked  into  life  ;  if  you  are  hardened  in  your  unbe- 
lief, and  would  be  melted,  go  where  tears  are  flowing, 
and  the  choked  and  tremulous  voice  of  confession  is 
heard  :  in  short,  if  you  desire  to  be  saved,  go  where 
salvation  is  being  proclaimed  and  experienced. 

You  are  walking  in  darkness  :    let  the  hand  of  a 


THE   MEANS   OF   GRACE.  7 

friend  lead  you  to  some  room  that  is  full  of  light. 
You  are  like  a  man  smitten  with  leprosy:  it  has 
full  possession  of  you ;  it  has  attacked  the  nerves, 
and  taken  away  your  sense  of  feeling;  it  has  har- 
dened the  organ  of  sight,  so  that  you  are  blind.  You 
neither  feel  nor  see  in  what  wretchedness  and  loath- 
someness you  stand ;  and  you  will  not  believe  such 
as  tell  you,  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  weeping  because 
of  the  wretched  plight  you  are  in,  how  terrible  is 
your  condition.  Go,  then,  to  Him,  at  the  touch  of 
whose  finger  the  scales  shall  fall  from  your  eyes,  and 
you  shall  see  how  vile  you  are  ;  and  not  alone  that, 
but,  looking  again,  see  your  vileness  pass  away,  and 
you  yourself — too  happy  to  laugh,  your  joy  finding 
expression  in  your  tears  —  feel  that  you  are  standing 
a  new  man  in  Christ  Jesus. 

I  desire  all  of  you  to  whom  I  am  a  religious 
teacher  and  adviser  to  understand  that  the  matter  of 
personal  goodness  is  not  one  of  mere  preference,  — 
something  you  can  accept  or  reject,  as  you  please. 
There  is  a  right  and  a  wrong  to  it.  Now,  I  feel 
that  all  of  you  desire,  on  the  whole,  to  do  what 
is  right.  The  Spirit  of  enlightenment,  the  Spirit  of 
quickening,  has  been  with  you;  and  you  are  not 
insensible  to  obligation.  It  has  not  had  its  perfect 
work  in  you ;  for  you  have  resisted  it  in  part,  and  do 
still  resist.  But,  so  far  as  you  have  permitted,  it  has 
been  with  and  in  you,  and  kept  you  from  fatal  indif- 
ference. You  have  been  like  the  briers  and  brambles 
in  spring-time,  whose  nature  it  is  to  go  out  in  the 
way  of  thorns,  and  yet  from  which  God,  through  sun 


8  THE  DUTY    OF  IMPROVING 

and  shower,  elicits  sweetness.  You  have  been  shone 
upon  of  his  love  ;  you  have  been  nourished  by  the 
dews  of  his  grace  ;  and  a  certain  floral  state  and  fra- 
grance have  come  to  you,  in  spite  of  yourselves  as  it 
were.  •  And  it  should  be  a  matter  of  keen  gratitude 
with  you,  as  it  is  of  rejoicing  to  us  all,  that  he  has 
not  left  you  to  }^ourselves,  but  enticed  you  by  a 
sweet  persistency  toward  goodness.  He  has  blessed 
you,  as  he  often  does  all  his  children,  beyond  what 
they  expected,  —  beyond  what  they  consciously  de- 
sired. 

Now,  I  speak  to  you  as  those  who  are  able  to  real- 
ize an  obligation;  and  I  say  (and  I  think  that  you 
all  will  agree  with  me)  that  you  have  no  right  to 
remain  spiritually  where  you  are,  if  any  advance  is 
possible  to  you.  If  you  would  be  a  better  father  or 
mother,  or  wife  or  husband,  or  brother  or  sister,  or 
friend,  by  becoming  a  Christian,  then  you  ought  to  be- 
come such  to-day.  The  question  of  experience  and 
conduct  is  not  one  that  is  important  to  you  alone. 
It  affects  every  one  whom  you  affect,  —  all  your 
clerks,  your  relatives,  your  acquaintances,  and  com- 
munity at  large.  The  character  of  a  man's  life  af- 
fects thousands  beside  himself.  Wickedness  cannot 
be  kept  inside  a  man's  own  heart.  You  might  a& 
well  expect  a  poisonous  flower  to  keep  its  poison  to 
itself,  when  the  wind  goes  over  it  and  wafts  its  dead- 
ly perfume  abroad,  as  to  expect  to  keep  the  evil 
thought,  and  wicked  imagination,  and  inordinate  de- 
sire, to  yourself.  There  is  a  social  and  moral  atmos- 
phere ;   and  men  breathe  of  your  impurity,  and  are 


THE   MEANS   OF   GRACE.  9 

endangered  by  it.  My  voice,  therefore,  only  given 
utterance  to  the  solemn  protest  of  universal  purity 
against  your  past  and  present  conduct,  w  hen  I  urge 
you  to  become  better  men  and  purer  women.  The 
embodied  virtue  of  the  world  speaks  through  me, 
exhorting  and  entreating  you  to  rectify  your  nature 
and  your  courses.  I  speak  not  alone  for  the  adults  : 
I  speak  for  those  who  sleep  in  cradles  to-day,  who 
are  to  grow  up  and  be  influenced  by  the  evil  in  the 
world,  of  which  your  imperfection  and-  sinfulness 
compose  a  part.  Steep  and  flinty  enough  by  Nature's 
dire  appointment  will  be  the  path  their  tender  feet 
must  tread :  place  not  a  pebble,  plant  not  a  thorn,  in 
their  path.  If  we  are  anxious  for  }^our  conversion, 
it  is  because  we  are  interested  in  it  as  sharers  of  its 
influence.  If  we  labor  so  strenuously  to  lift  you,  it 
is,  in  part,  because  we  feel,  that,  without  you,  we 
ourselves  cannot  so  rapidly  mount. 

I  dare  to  say  that  few  of  you  are  indifferent  to 
your  spiritual  condition.  You  are  thoughtful,  solemn- 
ly so :  for  the  Spirit  of  God  has  descended  upon  you  as 
winds  come  down  upon  a  forest ;  and  as  the  trees  are 
swayed,  so  you  are  moved  and  agitated  in  your  minds. 
And  you  can  truly  say,  "  I  am  thinking  upon  this 
matter  a  great  deal.  I  think  of  it  every  hour  in  the 
day  ;  yes,  and  at  night  too :  when  my  family  think  I 
am  sleeping,  I  lie  awake,  pondering  my  spiritual  con- 
dition." I  understand  all  this,  friends  ;  and  yet  I  say 
frankly  to  }xou,  that  in  this  lies  your  greatest  peril.  I 
mistrust  this  prolonged  deliberation.  My  fear  is  (and 
I  ask  you  to  judge  if  it  be  groundless),  —  my  fear  is, 


10  THE  DUTY   OF  IMPROVING 

that  you  will  do  nothing  but  think.  Thinking  will 
never  save  you ;  it  will  never  fulfil  the  gospel  re- 
quirement ;  it  will  never  make  your  peace  with 
Jesus ;  it  does  not  commit  you  to  that  step  which  is 
alone  satisfactory  to  God,  and  which  you  must  take 
01  ever  his  peace  will  be  shed  abroad  in  your  hearts. 
You  can  bury  a  seed  so  deeply  in  the  earth,  you 
can  retain  it  there  so  long,  that  it  shall  decay.  The 
germinal  principle  in  it  shall  be  extinguished,  and  no 
Hfe  ever  come  out  of  it.  And  so  a  resolution,  no 
xnatter  how  noble,  no  matter  how  promising,  can  be 
detained  so  long  in  the  mind  as  to  die  out,  and  never 
develop  into  an  act ;  and  I  fear  that  this  sad  expe- 
rience will  be  yours.  There  is  a  time  for  debate  ;  a 
time  when  to  act  would  be  only  to  blunder  ignorantly  : 
tout,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  a  time,  there  are 
seasons,  in  every  one's  life,  when  to  debate  longer  is  to 
•  sin, — a  moment  when  action  alone,  prompt  and  de- 
cided action,  meets  the  emergency,  and  fulfils  obliga- 
tion. Do  you  understand  this,  friends  ? .  Does  this 
analysis  come  with  the  force  of  conviction  to  you  ? 
Docs  something  within  you  say,  "  That's  my  case  "  ? 
If  so,  how,  then,  can  you  delay  ?  how  hesitate  ?  If 
go,  you  are  at  the  very  door  of  opportunity :  you 
have  but  to  open  it ;  you  have  but  to  take  one  step, 
and  you  stand  in  your  Father's  presence,  with  the 
light  of  his  face  shining  upon  you,  and  his  love  cover- 
ing your  transgressions  like  a  mantle.  Would  that 
1  might  have  a  more  impressive  utterance  than  the 
feebleness  and  coldness  of  uninspired  speech !  Would 
that  for  one  moment,  yea,  even  now  and  here,  to-day, 


THE   MEANS   OF   GRACE.  11 

the  "  gift  of  tongues  "  might  be  vouchsafed  to  me, 
that  through  my  lips  might  come  to  you  the  perfect 
expression  of  the  highest  wisdom  !  Then  should  you 
be  exhorted ;  then  should  there  be  a  propulsion  to 
my  words  that  should  push  you  on ;  then  should  it 
seem,  to  you  who  hesitate,  no  longer  the  voice  of 
man,  but  in  very  truth  the  voice  of  God.  Then 
should  mercy  stand  revealed  before  you, — not  that 
mercy  which  is  known  of  men,  and  whose  home  is  on 
the  earth,  but  that  sweet,  that  tender,  that  sublime 
expression  of  Jehovah  known  to  the  redeemed  and 
pardoned,  whose  dwelling-place  is  heaven,  and  whose 
home  is  in  the  bosom  of  God ;  and  you  should  see  it 
standing  here,  lacking  not  voice  of  warning,  lacking 
not  gesture  of  entreaty,  saying  unto  you  in  tones  to 
thrill  and  melt  your  hearts,  "  Though  your  sins  be  as 
scarlet,  they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow  ;  though  they 
be  red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wool." 

I  know  that  now  and  then,  when  every  other  ex- 
cuse fails  him  ;  when  Satan  can  push  forward  no 
other  defence  to  a  man's  wickedness,  —  as  the  last 
desperate  resort  against  the  Spirit,  he  concentrates  the 
energies  of  the  mind  in  one  bald  expression  of  un- 
belief and  obstinacy ;  and  the  man  says  in  his  heart, 
"  It  isn't  true.  The  preacher  is  mistaken.  I  am  in 
no  such  peril  as  he  describes,  do  what  I  may.  God 
is  too  good  to  condemn  me." 

My  friends,  palsied  forever  be  my  tongue  in  that 
hour  when  it  shall  cease  to  magnify  the  goodness  of 
God !  My  conception  of  him,  like  a  sun  full-orbed 
and  resplendent,  rides  forever,  the  heaven  of  my  hope  : 


12  THE   DUTY   OF  IMPROVING 

and  whether  in  gladness,  or  dimmed  with  the  moist- 
ure of  many  tears,  I  lift  my  eyes  upward,  the  sky  is 
bright  with  the  outshining  of  his  love.  Neither  in 
father  nor  mother,  neither  in  friend  nor  lover,  can  man 
find  a  measure  for  his  benevolence.  Never  may  you 
find  a  charity,  never  a  patience,  never  a  compassion, 
like  to  his.  But  this  makes  not  your  error  the  less, 
nor  your  conclusion  less  wrong  and  perilous.  Listen, 
then,  while  I  strive  to  make  this  appear  to  you. 

1.  In  one  sense,  God  does  not  condemn  you : 
you  condemn  yourself.  Not  by  the  frown  of  his 
face  shall  you  be  exiled  from  heaven  and  him,  which 
terms  are  one :  your  own  condition  shall  banish  you  ; 
your  own  consciousness  of  unfitness  shall  banish 
you.  Though  you  stood  in  the  streets  of  heaven,  yet 
should  you  say,  "  This  place  is  not  for  me ;  my  com- 
panions are  not  here  ;  "  and,  covering  your  face  with 
the  mantle  of  your  remorse,  you  would  fly  from  the 
place  and  companionship  you  did  not  deserve,  neither 
were  fitted  to  enjoy.  The  wretch  who  stands  at 
night  on  the  corner  of  your  street,  clothed  in  rags, 
and  every  rag  defiled  with  dirt,  with  bloated  face  and 
bloodshot  eyes,  and  a  tongue  familiar  with  oaths,  is 
not  less  fitted  for  the  light  and  refinement  and  purity 
of  your  parlors  than  you  are  —  standing  in  your  sins, 
clothed  in  the  garments  of  your  unrighteousness, 
your  minds  corrupted  with  the  outgoing  of  many 
unseemly  imaginations,  your  habits  all  earthly  —  for 
the  clear  light  of  heaven  and  the  company  of  the 
blessed.  Never  shall  you  know  until  that  hour, 
noted  chiefly  for  the  two  revelations  it  shall  make,  — 


THE  MEANS   OF   GRACE.  13 

one  of  the  purity  of  God,  the  other  the  impurity  of 
man,  —  never  until  you  shall  stand,  I  say,  in  that  pure 
light  which  forbids  all  illusions,  and  compels  by  its 
clearness  a  full  knowledge  of  yourself,  will  you  know 
how  wicked  you  are.  Then  shall  you  indeed  see 
y our  unfitness ;  then  will  you  realize,  as  no  words 
of  mine  can  make  you,  the  need  of  the  new  birth. 
The  silence  of  God  will  be  the  voice  of  your  con- 
demnation, and  your  own  consciousness  indorse,  even 
with  groanings,  the  righteousness  of  the  decree. 

But,  were  this  not  so,  still  are  you  in  the  wrong. 
The  Adversary  perverts  your  theology,  that  he  may 
still  hold  you  as  his  captive  ;  for  you  surely  cannot 
deny  that  God  is  ruler  over  a  kingdom  filled  with 
two  classes  of  subjects, — the  good  and  the  bad,  the 
obedient  and  the  disobedient.  In  this  world,  as  you 
know,  wickedness  and  wicked  men  exist:  and  hence 
law  is  a  necessity,  and,  in  order  that  it  may  protect 
the  good,  it  must  be  enforced ;  for  law  unenforced 
is  both  a  standing  dishonor  to  the  law-making  power 
and  a  laughing-stock  to  the  wicked.  And  God  must 
therefore  enforce  his  laws  against  every  transgressor 
of  them ;  and  the  impartial  enforcement  of  the  law 
becomes  the  highest  evidence  of  his  goodness.  Go 
down  to  one  of  your  city  courts  and  test  this  reason- 
ing. You  are  interested  in  this  matter  ;  for  you  are 
a  citizen  here,  and  your  own  life  and  property  are  at 
stake.  In  one  court-room  you  find  a  weak  man  as  a 
judge,  — not  a  base  judge,  perhaps  ;  not  one  who  will 
pocket  a  bribe ;  but  one  in  whom  there  is  no  keen 
sense  of  justice,  no  judicial  uprightness,  no  propel 


14  THE  DUTY   OF  IMPROVING 

realization  of  his  responsibility.  The  case  before  the 
court  is  one  of  your  own  bringing.  A  man  has 
broken  into  your  store,  and  robbed  you ;  or  into  your 
house,  and  violated  }7our  wife ;  and  the  whole  com- 
munity has  risen  up  in  arms  against  the  man.  A 
feeling  of  insecurity  has  spread  all  over  the  city  ;  and 
men  say  as  they  meet  in  the  street,  "  Who  of  us  is 
safe  ?  There  was  a  time  once  in  this  city  when  a  man 
could  leave  his  family  under  the  protection  of  the  pub- 
lic law,  and  journey  off,  and  do  his  business  abroad, 
feeling  that  his  wife  and  children  were  secure ;  but  now 
it  seems  that  none  of  us  are  secure.  What  a  civiliza- 
tion is  this,  when  a  man  must  needs  be  at  home  every 
night,  pistol  in  hand,  to  defend  his  own  dwelling ! " 
And  they  say,  "  This  villain  must  be  made  an  example 
of,  or  law  will  be  only  a  name  here,  and  a  by-word 
among  thieves."  But  the  judge  is  one  of  your  ten- 
der, merciful,  good  men ;  too  kind-hearted  to  punish 
any  one,  — just  such  a  being  as  some  of  your  teachers 
picture  God  to  be.  And  he  says,  "  I  can't  punish  this 
man :  I  love  him.  I  dare  say  he  will  repent  if  I  let 
him  go."  And  so  he  bids  the  sheriff  unclasp  the 
handcuffs,  and  turns  the  man  loose  upon  society 
again.  Friends,  what  would  you  say  of  such  a  judge  ? 
I  am  not  talking  theology  to  you ;  I  am  not  striving 
to  convert  you  to  any  set  of  doctrines :  I  am  talking 
common  sense  ;  I  am  getting  you  down  to  the  very 
roots  of  the  principle  of  public  justice  ;  and  I  ask  you, 
What  would  you  Boston  men  say  of  such  a  judge  ? 
Would  you  call  him  a  good  judge?  —  a  judge  to  be 
honored  ?  —  a  judge  to  be  loved,  and  kept  in  office  ? 


THE  MEANS  OF  GRACE.  15 

No!  You  would  say,  "  This  is  a  wicked  judge  :  he 
is  worse  than  the  criminal  he  wickedly  pardoned.  If 
he  had  been  a  good  judge,  he  would  have  inter- 
preted the  law  to  the  man's  condemnation  and  our 
safety.  His  goodness  would  have  at  least  made  him 
just.  Away  with  him  from  the  bench  he  disgraces, 
and  the  city,  every  home  in  which  he  has  imper- 
illed ! " 

My  friends,  are  goodness  and  justice  one  thing 
above,  and  another  below,  the  sky  ?  or  are  they  the 
same  in  every  world  and  order  of  beings  throughout 
the  universe  of  God  ?  You  say,  "  They  are  one 
and  the  same  everywhere  and  unto  all."  Then  I 
say,  in  accordance  with  your  own  rendering,  the  very 
goodness  of  God  will  impel  him  to  execute  his  law 
against  every  transgressor,  unless  some  other  provis- 
ion than  such  as  the  principles  of  public  justice 
provide  shall  be  made  in  the  criminal's  behalf.  A 
provision  has  been  made,  blessed  be  God  !  The  terms 
and  conditions  thereof  I  have  presented  to  you  out 
of  the  Scriptures  before,  and  do  present  them  to-day, 
which  you  have  rejected,  and  do  now,  as  I  understand 
you,  reject ;  and  these,  being  rejected,  leave  you  as 
though  no  provision  had  ever  been  made.  Where, 
then,  do  you  stand  ?  You  stand  in  the  position  of  trans- 
gressors before  the  law,  unprotected  by  any  provision 
of  mercy,  with  the  just  and  the  good  of  all  ages  and 
of  every  world  indignant  at  }rou  on  account  of  3Tour 
crime ;  without  God,  and  without  hope  in  the  world. 
Your  present  is  dark  with  forebodings,  as  a  landscape 
upon  which  has  fallen  the  shadow  of  coming  storm ; 


16  THE  DUTY   OF  IMPROVING 

and  out  of  the  future  comes  the  muttering  of  con- 
cealed but  approaching  thunder.  Fly,  then,  impeni- 
tent man,  before  the  night  of  death  comes  and  the 
storm  of  judgment  breaks  above  you  !  —  fly  to  the 
Rock  that  is  higher  than  thou ! 

The  death  of  Christ,  I  charge  you  to  remember, 
and  to  believe  none  who  say  otherwise,  as  you  value 
your  soul,  —  the  death  of  Christ  was  the  extreme  sug- 
gestion of  infinite  mercy,  whereby  judgment  might 
not  be  pronounced  upon  the  criminal,  and  the  honor 
of  the  law  and  the  security  of  the  universe  at  the 
same  time  be  sustained.  There  is  no  unrevealed  foun- 
tains, friends,  lying  back  of  Calvary,  yet  to  be  opened, 
in  which  the  guilty  may  wash  and  be  cleansed. 
There  is  no  rock  out  of  which  waters  may  gush, 
from  which  creatures  dying  of  thirst  may  drink,  save 
that  which  was  smitten  by  a  greater  than  Moses. 
There  is  no  other  name  in  heaven,  or  among  men, 
whereby  you  can  be  saved,  than  the  name  (is  there 
no  note  of  music  that  I  can  borrow  in  which  to 
breathe  this  name  ?  —  a  name  that  should  have  melody 
for  its  expression,  and  the  harmony  of  heaven  for  its 
praise) — the  name  of  my  Redeemer  and  my  Lord. 
Come,  then,  to  God,  with  this  name  upon  your  lips. 
Come  in  your  hesitation,  come  in  your  trembling, 
come  in  your  guilt,  come  even  in  your  despair,  and 
ask  freely ;  for  it  is  written,  "  Whatsoever  ye  shall 
ask  of  the  Father  in  my  name,  that  will  he  give  unto 
you." 

And  now,  friends  and  strangers,  as  I  draw  to  the 


THE  MEANS   OF   GRACE.  IT 

conclusion,  I  strive  after  some  parting  utterance  that 
shall  fitly  express  the  solemnity  of  this  hour.  I  have 
striven  to  speak  with  the  simplicity  and  directness 
of  a  man  who  realizes  the  grave  consequences  of 
human  conduct.  Ahead  of  us  all  is  the  future  ;  and 
to  us,  who  are  gifted  with  immortality,  it  is  an  endless 
future.  I  know  that  time  will  fail ;  that  the  days 
will  die,  and  have  an  end  ;  that  the  earth  will  cease 
its  revolutions  ;  and  the  seasons,  because  of  their  age, 
expire  :  but  we  shall  not  fail,  and  the  souls  that  are 
within  us  will  not  cease  to  live.  The  earth  on  which 
we  are,  and  the  heavens  above  us,  will  pass  ;  but  we 
shall  not  pass.  Even  the  bodies  we  inhabit  will  re- 
turn to  their  native  elements ;  ashes  shall  be  mingled 
with  ashes,  and  dust  with  dust :  but  we,  like  birds 
that  fly  upward  and  abroad  when  the  bars  of  their 
cages  part,  shall  stand  unharmed  when  our  bodies 
dissolve,  and  our  existence  will  be  continual.  Sitting 
as  you  are  under  the  shadow  of  that  eternity  which 
looms  in  vast  projection  above  your  heads,  feeling  as 
I  do  that  some  of  you  may  be  near  your  graves  and 
the  supreme  crisis  of  your  lives,  I  ask  you  to  tell  me 
what  is  your  spiritual  position.  Upon  what  are  you 
settled?  What  hope  have  you  to  give  strength  and 
consolation  in  your  dying  hour?  I  press  you  with 
no  arguments ;  I  make  no  appeal.  Faculties  and 
powers  are  yours  sufficient  for  the  investigation,  ample 
for  decision.  If  you  have  not  decided  ;  if  you  still 
linger  in  a  state  of  hesitation,  of  dangerous  lethargy, 
or  wicked  indifference,  —  I  do  my  duty  in  warning  you 


18  THE  DUTY  OF  IMPROVING 

against  further  delay.  Avoid  it  as  your  deadliest  foe. 
Your  consciences  speak  through  my  voice,  and  re- 
echo my  admonition.  Sink  the  line  of  investigation 
into  the  waters  to-day.  Touch  bottom  somewhere. 
Drift  no  longer  on  an  unsounded  current  down  which 
so  many  before  you  have  floated  to  ruin,  and  the 
shores  of  which  are  lined  with  the  upheaved  frag- 
ments of  many  and  recent  wrecks. 

The  day  has  brought  you  a  new  and  beautiful 
possibilhry.  It  has  delivered  you  from  your  business 
and  your  daily  cares.  It  has  graciously  separated 
you  from  those  worldly  pursuits  which  forbid  the 
leisure  needed  for  solemn  thought.  It  has  intro- 
duced you  to  scenes  peculiarly  favorable  to  religious 
reflection.  Its  memories  and  its  emotions  throng  to 
your  aid.  Heaven  itself,  descending  in  the  privileges 
of  this  closing  moment,  opens  its  gates  for  your  en- 
trance ;  and  the  solicitude  of  its  saints  and  its  angels, 
yes,  and  the  desire  of  the  Saviour  himself,  speaking 
through  my  lips,  sends  out  the  solemn  interrogation, 
"Will  you  enter?" 

Suspend  your  answer  until  you  hear  me.  By  that 
past  behind  you,  by  its  sacred  memories,  by  the 
graves  where  your  pious  ancestry  sleep,  by  the  re- 
membrance of  faces  now  passed  into  glory,  by  the 
bitter  recollections  of  your  sins  from  which  you  can 
never  deliver  yourselves,  by  the  brevity  of  your  lives 
hastening  to  their  close,  by  your  fear  of  death,  by 
your  hope  of  heaven,  and  by  whatever  other  invoca- 
tion unknown  to  me,  and  which,  by  being  uttered, 


THE  MEANS   OF  GRACE.  19 

might  influence  you  for  good,  I  entreat  you,  one  and 
all;  to  drop  your  rebellion  against  God,  and  be  at 
peace  with  him.  The  moment  is  heavy  with  the 
burden  of  yoi\r  decision.  Have  you  decided  ?  If  so, 
how? 


SABBATH  MORNING,  MARCH  12,  1871. 


SERMON. 


SUBJECT.- GOD'S   FEELINGS   TOWARD   MAN. 

"  But  when  he  was  a  great  way  off  his  father  saw  him, 
and  had  compassion,  and  ran,  and  fell  on  his  neck,  and  kissed 
him."  —  Luke  xv.  20. 

THE  parable  from  which  the  text  is  selected  has 
as  one  of  its  objects  to  show  the  feelings  of 
God  toward  men,  and  especially  when  they  come  in 
penitence  to  him.  It  is  a  very  remarkable  passage ; 
perhaps,  all  things  considered,  the  most  remarkable 
in  the  whole  Bible.  It  seems  incredible  that  any  one 
can  read  it  and  not  be  moved.  How  any  impenitent 
person  can  read  it,  and  remain  impenitent,  is  a  marvel. 
How  can  a  man  go  on  sinning  against  such  a  Being 
as  Christ  in  this  passage  teaches  that  God  is  ?  What 
a  thing  sin  must  be  if  it  can  harden  the  heart  against 
so  sweet  a  picture  of  the  divine  character  as  is  spread 
before  us  in  this  chapter  ! 

In  application  of  the  truths  taught  in  this  parable, 
I  observe, — 

1.  That  it  presents  the  sinner  in  several  states  of 
feeling ;  the  first  of  which  is,  wicked  uneasiness  under 
divine  restraint. 

20 


GOD'S   FEELINGS  TOWARD  MAN.  21 

You  must  follow  the  narrative  on  carefully,  step  by 
step,  you  must  pause  and  examine  every  group  in 
this  wonderful  picture  of  human  experience,  if  you 
would  feel  the  full  impression  produced  by  the 
whole. 

Here,  in  the  first  place,  is  a  young  man  blessed 
with  the  kindest  of  fathers  and  the  best  of  homes. 
Every  thing  that  ambition  could  desire  is  his. 
Wealth  serves  him,  and  love  ministers  unto  his  every 
want.  In  respect  to  the  present,  his  cup  runneth 
over ;  touching  the  future,  his  prospects  are  all  bright  : 
still  he  is  uneasy.  Some  people  never  can  be  satis- 
fied. He  has  freedom  ;  but  he  desires  license.  The 
bad  elements  of  his  nature  have  gained  the  ascend- 
ency. He  wearies  of  home.  It  is* too  well-ordered, 
too  pure.  He  chafes  under  its  salutary  control. 
Sinful  cravings  make  him  heady.  He  determines  to 
break  away  from  his  home.  Humored  to  the  last, 
the  property  is  divided, —a  full  half  put  into  his 
hands ;  and,  with  his  heart  steeled  against  every 
motive  of  honor,  gratitude,  and  affection,  heedless 
of  counsel,  and  deaf  to  entreaty,  he  casts  moral 
restraint  to  the  winds,  and  plunges  into  sinful  indul- 
gence. 

There,  friends,  you  have  the  first  picture,  —  the 
exact  portrait  of  scores  all  about  us.  Society  is  full 
of  men  impatient  of  all  moral  restraint,  indifferent 
to  duty,  dead,  in  conscience.  In  this  state  of  mind 
and  heart  is  embedded  the  germ  of  all  possible  wick- 
edness. A  person  who  deems  moral  obligation  tyr- 
anny, who    practically  ignores   every  injunction   of 


22  GOD'S  FEELINGS  TOWARD  MAN. 

the  ten  commandments  so  far  as  he  dares,  who  stops 
at  nothing  but  the  fear  of  punishment,  who  takes 
counsel  only  with  the  lower  and  animal  instincts  of 
his  nature,  is  a  person  already  far  along  the  road  to 
ruin.  Such  a  disposition  is  the  natural  soil  of 
poisons.  Nothing  fragrant,  nothing  fruitful  of  good, 
will  ever  come  out  of  it.  This  city  is  full  to-day  of 
just  such  young  men.  They  are  squandering  their 
character  as  a  spendthrift  does  money,  —  throwing  it 
away.  They  are  racing  down  to  ruin  :  they  vie  with 
each  other  in  their  attempts  to  outdo  one  another  in 
wickedness.  They  seem  proud  of  their  folly.  They 
have  literally  left  their  father's  house,  and  abide  with 
strangers.  They  are  careless  of  every  thing  that  is 
truly  worthy  in  life,  or  noble  in  destiny.  They  con- 
vert, by  their  evil  conduct,  the  blessing  of  time  into  a 
curse.  They  arise  in  the  morning  worse  than  when 
they  lay  down  at  night ;  they  lie  down  at  night 
worse  than  when  they  arose  in  the  morning. 

2.  The  second  picture  presented  in  the  parable  is 
of  a  man  given  over  to  sin.  Sin  is  no  longer  an  im- 
agination, but  an  experience.  He  no  longer  dreams 
of  it :  he  lives  in  it.  His  mouth  is  filled  with  the 
water  of  bitterness,  and  he  loves  the  taste.  His 
thoughts,  his  conduct,  his  impulses,  his  very  hopes, 
are  all  bad.  He  has  passed  beyond  the  limit  of  ordi- 
nary morality,  —  even  along  its  lowest  level.  Crime 
now  is  not  the  exception,  but  the  very  law,  of  his  life. 
Day  and  night  are  one  prolonged  occasion  of  license. 
There  is  no  let-up  to  his  wickedness.  His  indulgence 
is  unlimited  and  constant.     This  is  no  fancy  picture  : 


GOD'S   FEELINGS  TOWARD   MAN.  23 

such  men  —  pardon  me,  such  creatures  —  exist. 
They  are  here  in  your  city,  and  in  every  city  in  the 
world.  Your  jails  are  full  of  them,  and  your  streets 
are  fuller  than  your  jails. 

3.  The  third  picture  outlined  in  the  parable  is  of 
a  somewhat  different  character.  The  colors  have 
changed  slightly.  They  are  still  black,  but  less  set. 
The  oil  is  drying,  and  the  surface  becoming  less  coarse. 
We  now  behold  a  man  dissatisfied  with  his  evil 
courses.  He  sickens  at  his  own  sin.  It  no  longer 
flowers  in  beautiful  colors.  The  leaves  have  fallen, 
and  the  thorns  pierce  him.  His  hands  bleed.  The  pain 
of  his  suffering  causes  him  to  reflect.  Out  of  the 
very  ruins  of  his  pleasure  springs  the  germ  of  a  better 
life.  His  eyes  at  last  are  open.  They  stand  wide 
apart  with  horror  at  himself  and  his  surroundings. 
He  is  as  one  who  goes  to  sleep  in  a  palace,  and  wakes 
in  a  miserable  garret.  The  young  spendthrift,  by  a 
swift  declension,  has  reached  the  bottom  of  the  hill. 
Yesterday  he  had  all  he  could  desire  :  to-day  he 
stands  stripped  of  every  thing,  —  without  a  home, 
without  money,  without  friends,  without  clothes,  with- 
out food.     He  is  starving.     What  shall  he  do  ? 

I  never  read  this  parable  without  pausing  at  just 
this  point  in  the  story.  Here  is  the  climax  and  the 
crisis.  When  a  man  or  woman  stands  in  this  position, 
there  are  but  two  possible  results,  —  reformation,  or 
despair.  When  a  person  has  gone  down,  and  gone 
down,  until  he  can  go  no  farther  unless  he  goes  to  total 
wreck ;  when  by  bitter  experience  he  has  learned  that 
the  fruit  of  sin  is  death  ;  when  the  very  violence  of  hij 


24  GOD'S  FEELINGS  TO  WARD.  MAN. 

fall  has  shocked  him  into  thoughtfulness,  and  he  sees 
what  he  has  missed,  and  upon  the  brink  of  what  a 
fearful  gulf  he  stands,  — then  I  say  he  has  reached  the 
critical  moment  of  his  life.  At  just  such  a  point  in 
experience  this  young  man  in  the  parable  is  pictured 
to  us  as  standing.  He  was  but  the  wreck  of  his  former 
self.  The  beauty  and  strength  of  his  body  were 
gone.  Indulgence  had  drained  the  very  vigor  out  of 
his  blood.  His  property  was  all  squandered :  not  a 
dollar  was  left.  His  provisions  were  exhausted ;  but 
his  wants  remained.  Even  wretchedness  must  eat,  or 
die.  The  very  menials  in  his  father's  establishment 
were  rich  in  comparison  to  him.  They  at  least  were 
fed  and  clothed  ;  while  he  was  at  the  point  of  starva- 
tion, and  destitute  of  even  the  necessities  of  life. 
Something  must  be  done,  and  quickly  too  ;  but  what  ? 
( How  many  men  and  women  in  this  city  are  stand- 
ing to-day  in  just  this  position  !  —  although  with  them 
it  is  their  souls,  and  not  their  bodies,  that  suffer  and 
are  in  want.  For  months  and  years  they  have  been 
living  a  career  of  sin.  Morally  they  are  undone.  While 
they  have  been  wading  in  the  stream,  the  current  has 
been  deepening  and  gathering  strength,  until  they  can 
with  difficulty  keep  their  feet.  They  feel  that  they 
cannot  stand  much  longer.  The  swell  of  their  last 
temptation  nearly  lifted  them  from  the  bottom.  They 
must  get  to  the  shore,  or  be  swept  away.    > 

Friend,  if  you  know  or  conceive  of  any  one  in  all 
the  list  of  your  acquaintances  in  such  a  position,  go 
to  him.  Go  to  him  at  once.  Now  is  your  time.  Ah, 
how  your  presence  will  help  him !     How  the  touch 


GOD'S  FEELINGS  TOWARD  MAN.  25 

of  your  hand  will  give  him  new  hope !     I  know  a 
man  who  came  nigh  to  drowning  once.     He  was  boat- 
ing it,  and  snapped  his  paddle  in  the  rapids,  and  was 
shot  out  of  his  boat  like  a  bolt.     He  struggled  and 
fought  in  that  hell  of  water  and  foam  as  only  a  man 
will  who  has  been  trained  to  danger,  and  has  a  wife 
and  five  children  to  make  life  sweet.     But  what  is 
man  in  the  grasp  of  the  elements  ?     His  arms  began 
to  fail  him,  and  his  heart  to  sink.    The  feeling  of  hope- 
lessness was  entering  into  him,  and  he  was  even  say- 
ing to  himself,  "  I  must  die  !  "  when  from  far  up  the 
flight  of  quivering  water,  cutting  through  their  roar 
like  a  knife,  came  the  voice  of  a  comrade,  saying,  in 
half  whoop,  half  cry,  "  Steady,  Dick  !  hold  up  a  min- 
ute more ! "  and  in  an  instant  a  canoe,  borne  like  a 
feather  on  the  gale,  swept  down,  dipped  as  it  passed 
him,  and  a  paddle,  as  it  dipped,  swept  him  into  the 
boat.     He  was  saved  !  —  and  the  man  declares,  to  this 
day,  that  it  was  nothing  under  heaven  but  his  com- 
rade's whoop  that  saved  him.     And  so  in  the  realm 
of  the  spirit :  it  is  astonishing  how  little  a  thing  at 
times  will  save  a  man.     A  grasp  of  the  hand,  a  smile, 
a  word  even,  is  often  enough  in  God's  hand  to  change 
the  entire  course  of  life,  to  save  a  soul  from  death. 
So  I  say  to  you,  my  people,  if  any  of  you  know  of 
any  person  who  is  in  danger,  who  is  struggling  amid 
the  rapids  of  temptation,  and  in  peril  of  being  swept 
down,  now  is  your  time  to  save  him.     Make  an  at- 
tempt, at  least,  to  rescue  him.     Tell  him  not  to  give 
up.     Tell  him   to  make  one  more  effort.     Tell  him 
that  there  is  hope  for  him  yet.     Put  your  arms  around 


26  GOD'S  FEELINGS  TOWARD  MAN. 

him,  and  give  him  the  loan  of  your  strength.  Never 
give  a  man  up  morally.  Why,  flowers  will  grow  even 
in  the  soil  of  the  grave;  and  so,  out  of  the  very 
dust  and  corruption  of  a  man's  nature,  God  can  cause 
the  beauty  of  holiness  to  appear.  I  would  never  give 
a  man  up,  I  say ;  no,  not  until  his  latest  breath  had 
come  and  gone,  and  his  eye  become  set  forever  ;  and, 
even  as  he  died,  I  would  sink  my  ear  to  his  stiffening 
lips  to  catch  some  whispered  prayer,  and  search  his 
closing  eyes  for  some  gleam  that  should  tell  me,  that, 
amid  the  gathering  shadows  of  death,  the  light  of  a 
great  hope  had  unexpectedly  flashed  its  glory  upon 
him. 

But  to  return.  We  next  see  the  young  man  under 
strong  conviction  of  sin.  He  sees  his  faults  and  his 
folly.  His  eyes  are,  at  last,  open  to  the  wretchedness 
of  his  condition.  As  he  soberly  considers  his  circum- 
stances and  his  prospects,  as  the  past  rises  up  in  re- 
view before  him,  he  is  pierced  to  the  heart.  I  say, 
soberly  considers  them.  When  a  sinner  begins  to 
think,  he  is  half  saved ;  for  reflection  is  the  mother 
of  conviction,  and  what  Satan  most  hates.  If  he  can 
only  amuse,  only  divert,  only  distract  the  mind,  so 
that  it  shall  have  no  season  to  consider,  to  analyze,  — 
no  opportunity  to  think,  —  he  is  content.  One  of  the 
prime  elements  of  sin  is  heedlessness,  —  a  rash  and 
reckless  inattention  to  consequences.  Take  the 
young  men  in  this  city  who  are  rushing  to  ruin, 
squandering  the  forces  of  body  and  brain  in  riotous 
courses.  How  thoughtless  they  are  !  How  they  spin 
around  the  circle  of  wild  and  wicked  indulgence  of 


GOD'S  FEELINGS  TOWARD  MAN.  27 

their  passions  and  their  appetites,  seeking  and  finding 
in  moral  giddiness  temporary  escape  from  the  re- 
proaches of  conscience,  whose  voice  shall  yet  be  heard 
in  tones  of  thunder!  Here  is  a  man  convicted  of  his 
need  of  Christ,  and  yet  unwilling  to  become  a  Chris- 
tian ;  and  so  he  buries  himself  in  business,  and  multi- 
plies his  engagements,  and  seeks  to  relieve  himself 
from  the  very  feelings  which  God  has  given  him  to  be 
a  blessing  to  his  soul.  How  can  men  play  so  directly 
into  the  hands  of  the  Adversary  to  both  their  present 
and  eternal  hurt  ?  Speaking  against  him,  speaking  in 
behalf  of  your  highest  interests,  speaking  along  the 
line  of  experience  and  knowledge,  friends,  I  say  to 
every  one  of  you  who  are  doing  such  things,  who  are 
transgressing  any  law,  who  are  living  in  daily  neglect 
of  duty,  who  are  flying  from  the  mercy  of  God  as  if 
it  were  your  foe,  Stop  and  think:  where  will  }^our 
present  course  land  you  ?  Forecast  the  future  :  into 
what  harbor  will  you  come  at  last,  when  you  have 
finished  your  voyage  ?  Why  is  not  this  the  day  for 
you  to  break  away  from  evil,  or  take  a  new  and 
stronger  stand  in  goodness?  Why  is  not  this  the 
very  hour  for  you  to  say,  in  the  language  of  the  con- 
victed prodigal,  "  I  will  arise,  and  go  to  my  father's 
house  "  ? 

This  determination  sprang,  as  you  all  see,  from  a 
supreme  dissatisfaction  with  his  condition.  He  was 
wretchedly  off,  and  he  felt  it.  Every  one  of  you  who 
are  acting  against  the  will  of  God,  if  }rou  would  only 
stop  and  think  for  a  moment,  would  feel  the  same 
way;  for  God  has  made  you  too  noble   to  be  base 


28  GOD'S  FEELINGS. TOWARD  MAN. 

without  a  struggle.  I  take  you  to  witness,  judging 
by  your  own  experience,  that  Heaven  does  not  surren- 
der you  without  an  effort :  your  soul  does  not  go  to  its 
death  willingly,  but  is  dragged,  resisting,  and  crying 
out  against  the  cruel  forces  that  compel  it.  Do  some- 
thing wrong,  commit  some  crime,  and  mark  the 
result.  What  remorse  you  have !  How  the  con- 
sciousness of  your  sin  gnaws  away  at  your  peace ! 
How  the  fear  of  exposure  torments  you !  I  tell  you, 
"  the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard."  Some  people 
talk  as  if  men  and  women  go  devil-ward  with  easy 
rapidity.  Now  and  then,  one  does.  Now  and  then,  a 
man  swoops  toward  destruction,  as  an  eagle,  stricken 
far  up  in  the  sky  by  a  flying  bullet,  swoops  with  set 
wings  downward  until  it  is  dashed  upon  the  resound- 
ing earth.  But  the  number  of  such  is  small.  The 
majority  of  those  who  are  wicked  have  become  such 
by  degrees.  Their  declension  was  gradual  and  inter- 
mittent. Between  their  first  and  second  positive  acts 
of  transgression  there  was  a  pause  and  a  struggle. 
One  must  sin  a  great  while  before  he  is  insensible  to 
right  conduct.  The  soul  is  not  morally  petrified  in  a 
day. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  when  the  young  man  "  came 
to  himself,"  when  he  stopped  to  think,  when  he  be- 
gan to  reflect  on  his  past  and  present  condition,  and 
the  causes  that  wrought  the  awful  change,  his  soul 
was  filled  with  regret.  No  wonder  that  a  powerful 
conviction  took  hold  of  him ;  that  his  eyes  were 
opened,  and  he  saw  his  folly  and  his  sinfulness.  He 
made  a  decision.     Standing  there  amid  the  swine,  by 


GOD'S   FEELINGS   TOWAED   MAN.  29 

his  physical  necessities  brought  almost  to  a  level  with 
them,  he  formed  a  resolution.  He  made  up  his  mi, id : 
44 I  will  arise,"  he  said,  "  and  go  to  my  father's  house, 
end  si,y  unto  him,  Father,  I  have  sinned  against 
heaven  and  before  thee,  and  am  no  more  worthy  to  be 
called  thy  son :  make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired  servants." 

Here  was  genuine  repentance,  —  a  frank  and  full 
confession  of  his  sinfulness.  Here  was  a  change  of 
mind,  radical  and  emphatic.  Here,  too,  was  humility, 
ready  to  accept  any  position,  provided  only  that  it  was 
near  the  father's  person,  and  subject  to  his  care.  I 
wish  you  all  to  observe  how  entire  was  the  surrender 
of  his  former  opinions,  how  thorough  the  retraction, 
how  noble  the  determination.  He  was  not  impelled 
by  the  desire  to  be  restored  to  favor  and  support.  It 
was  not  selfishness  that  prompted  the  resolution. 
Above  every  other  desire,  apparently,  was  this,  —  to 
get  to  the  presence  of  his  father,  and  say,  "  Father,  i 
have  sinned."  It  was  the  heavy  burden  of  his  guilt 
from  which  he  sought  release.  His  confession  was  not 
general.  It  would  not  satisfy  him  ;  it  would  not  ease 
his  conscience  to  say  it  to  the  world  at  large  :  he  must 
go  to  his  father,  and  say  to  him,  "  Father,  I  have 
sinned." 

Is  there  not  some  one  present  to-day  with  some  sin 
on  his  conscience  of  which  he  repents  ?  Is  there  not 
some  one  here  who  is  convinced  that  his  life  has  not 
been  what  it  should  have  been ;  who  is  dissatisfied 
with  his  present  position  ;  whose  mind  has  under  jotx 
a  great  change  of  late,  and,  unable  to  bear  th 
much  longer  by  himself,  feels  that  he  must  say  some- 


30  GOD'S   FEELINGS  TOWARD  MAN. 

tiling  to  somebody  ?  For  now  and  then  the  conscious- 
ness of  sin  so  smites  against  a  man,  that  the  pain 
becomes  intolerable  ;  and  as  a  child  relieves  itself  by 
crying,  so  he  must  find  relief  by  giving  vent  to  his 
feelings.  He  must  unburden  himself,  or  his  heart 
would  break.  Half  of  the  attractive  power  of  the 
Roman-Catholic  Church  is  to  be  found  in  its  confes- 
sional. To  it  the  guilty  or  sorrowing  heart  goes  as 
to  a  refuge.  Is  there  in  all  this  audience  some  soul 
in  such  a  position  as  this  ?  —  some  heart  so  borne  down 
by  the  sense  of  its  sin,  so  pressed  upon  on  all  sides 
by  conflicting  thoughts,  so  pierced  by  some  keen 
shaft  of  conviction,  that  he  cannot  much  longer  hold 
his  peace,  but  must  cry  out,  though  the  shame  of  all 
the  world  comes  upon  him  ?  If  there  is,  I  tell  you, 
friend,  go  at  once  to  God  with  your  confession.  Tell 
it  not  to  man  ;  tell  it  to  him.  Summon  no  human 
ear :  go  at  once  to  the  Divine  Presence,  and  say, 
"  Father,  I  have  sinned ;  make  me  as  one  of  your 
hired  servants  ;  "  and,  instead  of  being  made  a  servant, 
thou  shalt  be  made  a  son.  Who  of  you  believes 
this  ? 

The  Scripture  goes  on  to  say  that  "  he  arose,  and 
came  to  his  father." 

Here  was  repentance  followed  by  action.  The  act 
testified  to  the  thought,  and  proved  it  genuine.  He 
did  not  stop  to  debate  :  he  had  no  right  to  do  so. 
No  one  here,  being  convinced  of  his  duty,  has  any 
right  to  delay  its  performance.  If  your  heart,  friend, 
speaking  from  within  you,  says  that  you  ought  to  be- 
come a  Christian,  then  become  one.     If  within  you 


GOD'S  FEELINGS  TOWARD  MAN.  31 

is  one  desire  for  a  cleanlier  life  than  you  have,  of  late 
been  living,  for  a  nearer  connection  with  God,  put 
that  desire  to-day  into  your  conduct.  Stamp  the 
molten  metal  of  your  inclination  into  the  form  of  an 
act.  It  is  wrong  of  you  to  hesitate,  to  hold  back,  to 
halt  between  two  opinions.  To  whom,  I  wonder,  in 
this  congregation,  does  this  counsel  come  with  the 
force  of  a  direct  application  ?  Is  it  you  on  my  left  ? 
Is  it  you  on  my  right  ?  Or  art  thou  the  man,  friend  ? 
Who  is  it  in  this  audience  whose  heart  beats  in  re- 
sponse to  the  interrogation  ?  Who  has  reached  that 
point  in  his  experience  at  which  he  is  ready  to  rise, 
and  go  to  his  father's  house  ?  If  any,  I  say  to  them, 
Arise,  arise  at  once,  and  start  toward  home. 

We  have  thus  far,  my  friends,  been  looking  at  the 
human  side  of  the  subject ;  we  have  been  studying 
and  analyzing  the  man.  Let  us  now  look  at  the 
divine  side  ;  let  us,  for  a  moment,  study  and  observe 
the  feeling  and  action  of  God. 

The  most  important  of  all  questions  that  a  man 
can  ask  himself  is,  "  How  does  God  feel  toward  me  ? 
What  is  his  expectation  ?  and  how  have  I  met  it  ?  " 
The  most  interesting  of  all  interrogations  to  men  at 
large  is  this :  "  What  is  the  predominating  sentiment 
in  the  bosom  of  God  toward  the  race  ?  How  does 
he  feel  toward  man  as  man  ?  "  Any  thing  that  throws 
light  upon  this  point,  any  thing  in  nature  or  revela- 
tion which  draws  aside  the  veil  from  the  counte- 
nance of  the  Invisible,  and  enables  us  to  behold  the 
expression  of  his  face,  is  invaluable. 

Now,  this  parable  is  the  pearl  of  all  the  parables  in 


32  GOD'S  FEELINGS  TOWARD  MAN. 

this  respect.  Indeed,  there  is  no  passage  in  all  the 
Scriptures  which  speaks  with  such  minuteness  of 
detail,  with  such  emphasis  of  illustration,  touching 
the  feelings  of  God  toward  man,  as  does  this.  It 
removes  every  possible  ground  of  conjecture.  Fog 
can  as  well  hold  its  own  against  a  strong  current  of 
air  as  doubt  and  hesitation  bear  up  against  the  wind- 
like movement  of  this  passage.  The  prodigal  had 
repented  of  his  wickedness  and  folly.  He  had  de- 
cided to  return,  and  cast  himself  on  his  father's  mer- 
cy. How  would  that  father  receive  him  ?  Would 
he  even  grant  him  an  audience  ?  His  highest  hope, 
his  boldest  prayer,  was  to  become  a  servant  where 
once  he  had  lived  as  a  prince.  Would  he  be  granted 
even  that  position  ?  What  anxiety,  what  conflicting 
thoughts,  must  have  agitated  his  mind  as  he  jour- 
neyed homeward  !  If  he  could  only  meet  some  one 
of  his  father's  household !  only  get  some  hint  as  to 
what  would  be  his  probable  reception  !  Did  they 
remember  him  still  ?  Was  his  name  ever  mentioned 
at  home  ?  or  was  there  a  ban  put  upon  it,  and  all 
allusion  to  it  by  common  consent  forbidden  ?  What 
a  journey  must  this  of  the  prodigal's  have  been,  as 
in  sorrow  and  remorse,  in  poverty  and  rags,  all  the 
fair  and  early  prospects  of  his  life  blasted,  all  his 
hope  gone,  he  begged  his  way  toward  the  princely 
home  of  his  youth!  At  last  he  draws  nigh  to  the 
place  of  his  birth,  the  locality  of  so  many  tender  and 
touching  memories.  The  old  familiar  sights  once 
more,  one  by  one,  meet  his  eyes ;  and  now,  while 
yet   at   a   distance,   the    never-to-be-forgotten    roof 


GOD'S  FEELINGS  TOWARD  MAN.  33 

stands  in  view.  You  and  I,  friend,  after  a  briefet 
absence  than  had  been  the  prodigal's,  with  less  in 
memory  and  circumstance  to  quicken  the  heart,  have 
choked  as  Ave  caught  sight  of  the  familiar  door,  and 
knew  that  mother  and  father  were  within.  "  How 
can  I  go  on?  "  he  must  have  exclaimed  as  he  stopped 
and  locked  at  himself.  "  How  can  I  present  myself 
at  the  door  in  such  a  plight  ?  How  can  I  meet  my 
father's  eye,  and  stand  in  my  father's  presence?  — 
that  father  whose  counsel  I  disregarded ;  whose  love 
I  slighted;  whose  care  I  despised;  whose  princely 
gifts,  even  to  the  half  of  his  estate,  I  have  squan- 
dered ! "  At  this  moment  it  was,  even  as  he  was 
standing  in  fear,  hesitation,  and  doubt,  his  father  saw 
him.  Oh  the  feeling  of  that  father's  heart !  You 
who  are  parents,  assist  me  to  realize  it.  Tell  me 
what  words  I  can  select  to  fitly  express  it.  Tell  us 
all,  that  these  sinful  men  may  know  how  God  feels 
towards  them,  how  you  would  have  felt  in  that 
father's  place.  There,  before  him,  stood  his  long- 
lost  son,  his  latest  born  ;  but,  oh,  how  changed  from 
what  he  once  had  been !  His  clothing  was  like  a 
sot's  or  beggar's.  Debauch  had  seamed  his  once 
fair  countenance.  Hunger  had  written  its  lines  in 
unmistakable  characters  across  his  face.  His  look 
was  the  look  of  woe ;  the  hollow,  craving  expression 
of  a  man  when  hope  and  heart  have  been  beaten  out 
of  him.  But  no  outward  change  of  raiment,  no 
haggardness  of  the  flesh,  could  deceive  that  father's 
eye.  It  was  his  boy  he  saw.  His  heart  rose  up 
within  him.      Oh  the  rising  of  a  father's  heart   at 


34  GOD'S   FEELINGS  TOWARD  MAN. 

such  a  time  !  What  must  it  be  ?  He  forgot  the  young 
man's  rebellion ;  he  forgot  his  desertion ;  he  forgot 
every  thing  but  his  love  for  his  boy.  He  started ;  he 
ran ;  he  fell  on  his  son's  neck ;  he  kissed  him !  Is 
this,  then,  God  in  his  feelings  toward  man  ?  Blessed 
forevermore  be  the  lips  that  spake,  and  the  pen  that 
recorded,  this  parable  for  our  eyes  to  see  and  our  ears 
to  hear ! 

If  there  are  any  in  the  Divine  Presence  at  this 
moment  longing  for  reconciliation  with  God ;  any 
who  feel  dissatisfied  with  their  former  life,  and  would 
change  it ;  any  desirous  of  knowing  what  would  be 
their  reception  if  they  should  go  in  penitence  to 
their  heavenly  Father,  —  you  all  must  feel  at  this  mo- 
ment what  it  would  be.  Away  with  definition  !  —  no 
one  can  define  God.  Away  with  dogma  !  —  no  one 
can  state  his  attributes.  Away  with  the  controversy 
of  creeds  !  —  you  might  as  reasonably  expect  to  behold 
the  reflection  of  all  the  stars  in  the  heavens  in  one 
mirror  as  to  confine  the  glory  of  the  Divine  Nature 
within  the  covers  of  a  pamphlet :  but  here  in  this 
parable,  spoken  by  Christ  himself,  here  in  this  picture 
of  a  father  with  his  arms  around  the  neck  of  his  son, 
kissing  him,  behold  the  attitude  of  God  toward  you 
to-day,  and  learn  the  love  that  no  language  can  ex- 
press and  no  formula  declare. 

But  the  cordial,  the  compassionate,  the  tender  re- 
ception on  the  part  of  the  father  did  not  lessen  the 
son's  sense  of  guilt.  He  felt  his  utter  unworthiness 
all  the  same,  —  even  more.  His  conviction  had  been 
deep,  his  repentance  sincere.     It  was  not  selfish  ben- 


GOD'S  FEELINGS  TOWARD  MAN.  35 

efit  that  he  came  to  seek :  no  mean  idea  of  profit,  no 
mercenary  motive,  had  brought  him  home.  It  was 
forgiveness  he  wanted.  It  was  reconciliation  he 
craved.  It  was  nearness  to  his  father's  person  for 
which  he  longed.  Release  from  his  remorse  ;  deliv- 
erance from  the  terrible  thought  of  his  ingratitude  ; 
his  father's  love,  his  father's  care,  —  these  were  the 
desires  of  his  heart ;  these  were  the  emotions,  which 
his  father's  kindness  had  only  served  to  deepen,  that 
broke  forth  amid  his  sobs  ;  and  he  said,  "  My  father, 
my  father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven  and  in  thy 
sight,  and  am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son ! " 

See  the  uppermost  thought.  It  was  sin.  It  was 
sin,  not  against  man  merely,  not  against  himself, 
even,  it  was  sin  against  Heaven,  which  he  had  com- 
mitted. It  was  this  that  smote  him  with  so  deep  a 
sense  of  his  unworthiness.  It  was  this  he  could  not 
forget.  But  behold  the  forgiveness  of  the  father  !  It 
covered,  it  wiped  out,  every  thing.  It  did  not  put  him 
a  while  upon  probation.  It  did  not  consign  him  for  a 
month  or  six  weeks  to  the  servitude  of  fear.  It  was 
prompt ;  it  was  complete  ;  it  was  with  joy.  "  But  the 
father  said  to  his  servants,  Bring  forth  the  best  robe, 
and  put  it  on  him  ;  and  put  a  ring  on  his  hand,  and 
shoes  on  his  feet ;  and  bring  forth  the  fatted  calf  and 
kill  it,  and  let  us  eat  and  be  merry :  for  this,  my  son, 
was  dead,  and  is  alive  again;  he  was  lost,  and  is 
found." 

My  friends,  behold  the  omnipotence  of  forgiveness  ! 
The  mountains  are  vast,  and  the  sea  is  without 
bounds :  but  neither  can  symbolize  the  forgiving  love 


36  GOD'S   FEELINGS  TOWARD   MAN. 

of  God ;  for  its  head  is  higher  than  the  heavens,  and 
the  waves  of  its  influence  roll  where  the  surge  of  the 
ocean  never  beats.  The  poles  do  not  limit  it,  nor  the 
circumference  of  the  firmament  circumscribe.  The 
eagle  can  soar  to  an  atmosphere  too  thin  to  uphold  its 
weight,  and  man  can  climb  to  a  height  where  he  can- 
not breathe  ;  but  no  angel  can  lift  himself  and  no 
spirit  mount  beyond  the  diffused  presence  of  its 
power.  It  is  the  very  atmosphere  of  God;  and, 
wherever  life  and  being  are,  there  may  it  be  breathed. 

Who  here  is  breathing  of  this  atmosphere  to-day  ? 
Happy  man  !  happy  woman  !  What  soul,  returning 
from  its  wanderings  in  sin,  can  feel  the  arms  of  divine 
compassion  around  its  neck,  and  the  greeting  of  for- 
giving love  upon  its  face  ?  What  one  of  you  all,  who 
came  to  this  sanctuary  to-day,  came  as  a  prodigal,  and 
can  now  hear  your  Father's  voice  saying  to  his  angels 
that  minister  to  the  voice  of  his  m^rcy,  "  Bring  forth 
the  robe  of  Christ's  righteousness,  the  robe  of  joy, 
the  robe  of  restoration,  and  put  it  on  this  soul ;  and 
bring  forth  the  ring,  the  emblem  of  rank  and  dignity  ; 
and  the  shoes,  those  sandals  that  my  chosen  ones 
wear,  and  put  them  on  him ;  and  make  ready  a  feast 
of  welcome  and  celebration :  for,  lo !  this  soul  that 
was  dead  is  alive  again ;  and  this  spirit,  that  was  lost 
so  long,  is  at  last,  to-day,  found"  ? 

My  people,  I  strive  in  this  discourse  to  give  utter- 
ance to  your  past,  to  embody  in  speech  the  primal  idea 
on  which  this  church  was  based.  On  the  da}r  when 
this  edifice  was  dedicated  (Jan.  10,  1810),  standing 
in  this  pulpit,  Dr.  Griffin  of  sainted  memory,  from 


GOD'S  FEELINGS  TOWAKD  MAN.  37 

whose  teachings  you  so  largely  derived  your  now  his- 
toric position,  said,  — 

"  The  worship  of  God,  as  conducted  in  this  house 
will  not,  I  hope,  wear  the  appearance  of  controversy, 
much  less  of  bitterness  against  others,  but  of  weak- 
ness rather,  and  gentleness,  as  the  spirit  of  the  gospel 
dictates.  This  pulpit  was  not  erected  to  hurl  anathe- 
mas against  men,  who  to  their  own  master  must 
stand  or  fall.  But  here,  with  an  eye  uplifted  to 
heaven,  and  filled  with  tears,  we  are  to  make  suppli- 
cation for  ourselves,  our  families,  our  brethren,  and 
for  a  world  lying  in  wickedness.  Here,  I  hope,  the 
truths  of  the  gospel  will  be  preached  in  all  their  sim- 
plicity, in  all  their  mildness,  and  in  all  their  force, 
without  uncharitable  allusions  to  any  who  may  defend 
different  views  of  the  Scriptures." 

It  was  not  controversial  dogma,  it  was  not  the  ter- 
ror of  the  law,  it  was  not  the  dry  formulas  of  the 
contesting  schools,  that  he,  who  might  almost  be 
called  the  father  of  this  church,  said  that  he  desired 
to  have  preached  here.  No:  it  was  the  simplicity 
and  mildness  of  the  gospel,  the  simple  story  of  the 
cross  and  its  humane  applications,  that  he  would  for- 
ever have  this  pulpit  proclaim;  and  nowhere  be- 
yond what  they  are  in  this  parable  are  these  charac- 
teristics of  evangelical  doctrines  brought  out. 

And  now,  friends,  if  there  is  a  single  person  in  all 
this  audience  who  came  here  in  doubt  as  to  what 
are  God's  feelings  toward  him  ;  any  one  half  per- 
suaded, and  yet  not  daring  to  venture  upon  his  mercy ; 
any  over  against  whom  such  a  mountain  of  sin  has 


38  GOD'S  FEELINGS  TOWARD  MAN. 

been  heaved  up  by  bis  transgressions,  and  who  is  so 
filled  with  the  sense  of  his  guilt  and  folly,  that  he  said 
to  himself,  "  God  never  will  forgive  me :  others  may 
have  hope ;  but  my  transgressions  have  been  too 
many  and  great,"  —  I  trust  that  he  no  longer  despairs, 
but  has  had  such  a  hope  come  to  him  as  he  has  listened 
and  thought  this  morning,  that  he  has  already  cast 
himself  in  glad  confidence  upon  that  mercy  which  is 
greater  than  his  guilt.  I  do  not  say  that  you  shall  all 
repent  to-day ;  I  do  not  say  that  you  shall  all  become 
Christians :  for  these  things  are  beyond  my  ordering. 
Such  decisions  rest  entirely  with  you.  But  I  do  say, 
that,  if  any  of  you  go  out  of  this  room  this  morning 
unforgiven  and  unaccepted  of  God,  it  will  not  be  be- 
cause you  are  in  doubt  as  to  what  his  feelings  are 
toward  you,  or  as  to  the  reception  you  would  meet 
with  should  you  arise  and  go  to  your  Father's  house, 
and  say,  "  Father,  I  have  sinned."  Come,  then,  all 
ye  who  are  weary  and  heavy-laden  with  the  burden 
of  your  sins  ;  come,  all  you  who  broke  away  in  your 
youth  from  your  Father's  house,  aud  tire  of  your  ab- 
sence ;  come,  all  ye  who  are  spiritually  poor  and 
weak  and  cast  down, — know  that  your  Father  is  wait- 
ing for  you  to-day.  Before  you  reach  his  presence 
lie  will  see  you.  While  you  are  a  great  way  off  will 
his  eyes  behold  you.  He  will  see  you,  I  say.  He 
will  run  towards  you.  He  will  take  you  in  his  arms. 
Weak  and  faint,  you  shall  lie  on  his  bosom.  You 
shall  feel  his  kiss  on  your  face.  He  will  restore  you 
to  his  favor,  and  you  will  live  in  his  house  as  a  son 
and  prince  forever. 


SABBATH  MORNINQ,  MARCH  19,  1871. 


SERMON. 


TOPIC. -CHRISTIAN   FAITH:    ITS    NATURE  AND  EFFICIENCY. 

"  In  the  last  day,  the  great  day  of  the  feast,  Jesus  stood 
and  cried,  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me,  and  drink. 
He  that  belie veth  on  me,  as  the  Scripture  hath  said,  out  of 

HIS   HEART   SHALL  FLOW   RIVERS   OF   LIVING   WATER." — John  Vli.  37,  38. 

YOLTAIRE  said  that  "  man  was  a  religious 
animal."  The  infidel  spoke  truth  for  once,  at 
least  so  far  as  he  affirmed  the  presence  of  religious 
tendencies  in  man ;  for  it  is  undeniable  that  the 
human  mind  has  its  adaptations  for  spiritual  exercise. 
It  has  spiritual  longings  and  needs.  No  immortal 
being  can  keep  his  aspirations  within  the  strict 
limits  of  a  mortal  life.  His  thoughts  and  feelings 
break  over,  and  range  widely  on  all  sides.  Like 
another  Columbus,  he  believes  in  the  existence  of  a 
world  he  cannot  see.  In  reason  he  has  demonstrated 
it.  Daj-  and  night,  his  hope  stands  upon  the  look- 
out until  that  undiscovered  country  shall  heave  in 
sight.  Ever  and  anon,  a  scented  shrub  upon  the 
tide,  a  faint  suggestion  of  fragrance  in  the  air,  or  the 
flash  of  crimson  wings  through  the  mist,  tells   him 


40  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  : 

that  he  has  almost  come  to  the  mysterious  continent 
toward  which  he  has  so  long  sailed.  When,  there- 
fore, I  speak  in  explanation  of  the  principles  of  reli- 
gion, I  speak  of  a  subject  in  which  you  are  all 
interested.  We  may  not  think  alike  ;  but  every  one 
must  have  some  faith  concerning  the  future.  That 
person,  with  fair  mental  capacity,  that  is  not  curious 
as  to  it,  who  does  not  often  assault  it  with  sharp  in- 
terrogations, is  a  marvel  of  intellectual  lethargy ;  for 
death  must  either  be  the  grandest  triumph,  or  the 
worst  catastrophe,  of  a  man's  life. 

So,  as  I  said,  we  are  all  alike  interested  in  this 
matter.  We  all  have  a  mutual  interest  in  knowing 
just  where  we  stand,  and  what  we  need.  If  there  is 
thirst  within  us,  where  can  it  be  quenched  ?  If 
there  is  danger  ahead,  how  can  it  be  avoided  ? 

Now,  friends,  there  is  this  peculiarity  about  the 
religion  of  Christ  as  held  by  the  evangelical  church- 
es, which  must  recommend  it  to  every  honest  and 
earnest  seeker  after  truth  :  it  is  a  positive  religion,  — 
positive  in  its  principles,  definitions,  and  explanations. 
If  a  man  comes  to  me,  saying,  "  What  must  I  do  to 
be  saved  ?  "  I  can  tell  him.  If  he  inquires,  "  Why  do 
I  need  to  be  saved  ?  "  I  can  tell  him  that.  I  do  not 
speculate.  I  do  not  theorize.  I  do  not  amuse  him 
by  telling  him  what  is  not  true.  I  tell  him  simply 
what  is  true.  This  is  a  great  gain  to  start  with. 
And  all  those  preachers  who  are  striving  to  build  up 
a  church  on  negation  will  find  their  labors  vain.  The 
age  in  which  we  live  admires  construction  more  than 
demolition.      He   who   builds  up,  and  not  he  that 


ITS  NATURE  AND  EFFICIENCY.  41 

pulls  down,  will  invariably  win  the  suffrage  of  the 
people.  But  the  Christian  religion  is  not  only  posi- 
tive ;  it  not  only  builds  a  person  up  in  knowledge  and 
goodness,  but  it  does  it  by  a  process  and  in  a  way 
peculiar  to  itself.  The  mode  of  its  operation  is 
unlike  that  of  any  other  force  known  in  the  realm  of 
morals. 

There  has  never  been  a  time,  perhaps,  in  which 
efforts  were  not  made  to  better  men  ;  in  which,  at 
least,  men  did  not  speculate  how  to  better  themselves. 
The  problems  in  morals  have  been  as  numerous  and 
as  closely  contested  as  the  problems  of  science.  But, 
while  countless  methods  have  been  suggested  where- 
by man  might  be  developed  and  ennobled,  no  unin- 
spired writer  ever  hit  upon  the  plan  adopted  in  the 
Bible.  The  idea  that  the  forces  to  purify  and  elevate 
man  were  to  be  found  in  man ;  that  the  beauty  of 
manhood,  like  that  of  a  flower,  should  be  but  the 
unfolding  of  a  germ  divinely  planted  in  the  heart ; 
that  the  richest  maxims  of  morality  should  be  proved 
sterile  beside  the  germinant  and  germinating  qualities 
sowed  broadcast  in  the  nature  by  the  Spirit,  —  this,  I 
say,  was  never  dreamed  of  prior  to  the  coming  of 
Christ.  Here  we  behold  the  broad  line  of  demarca- 
tion which  divides  all  philosophies  from  the  religion 
of  the  New  Testament;  and,  that  all  of  you  may 
have  it  well  impressed  on  your  minds,  we  will  pause 
at  this  point  a  moment  to  examine  it. 

You  have  often  seen  a  tree  crooked  and  stubby  in 
its  trunk,  gnarled  and  contorted  in  its  branches,  and 
every  bough  scarred  with  unsightly  warts.    It  is  aston- 


42  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  : 

ishing  how  ugly  a  tree  can  look,  —  almost  as  ugly  as 
some  men.  Now,  you  can  imagine  that  some  one 
might  undertake  to  rectify  that  tree,  and  go  to  work 
with  saw  and  axe  and  knife  to  trim  it  up,  and  pare  it 
down,  and  thin  it  out,  and  make  it  symmetrical ;  at 
least,  less  offensive  to  the  eye :  but  he  finds  that  he 
cannot  do  it.  He  can  never,  with  any  amount  of 
trimming  and  cutting  and  paring,  lengthen  the  stubby 
trunk,  nor  strengthen  the  crooked  limbs,  nor  smooth 
down  the  warts  :  even  if  he  might,  the  excrescences 
would  grow  again,  and  the  tree,  within  a  twelvemonth, 
swell  all  over  with  uncomely  protuberances,  and  the 
attempt  be  a  total  failure. 

But  suppose  that  He  who  gave  the  tree  life,  and  has 
power  over  all  the  forces  of  Nature  that  minister  to 
it,  should  infuse  them  with  purgative  and  rectifying 
qualities  ;  should  so  change  the  very  sap  of  the  tree 
with  correcting  and  vitalizing  power,  that  in  answer 
to  this  energy,  this  propulsion  from  within,  the  trunk 
should  weary  of  its  stubbiness,  and  be  thrilled  with  a 
new  ambition  to  grow,  and  shoot  up,  and  the  crooked 
branches  stretch  themselves  out,  finding  correction  in 
growth,  and  all  the  excrescences  be  sloughed  off  and 
fall  away,  leaving  the  bark  smooth  and  green :  you 
can  all  see  at  a  glance  how  the  tree  might  be  rectified; 
how  it  might  become  a  reformed,  a  regenerated  tree  ; 
and  you  see  how  superior  this  latter  method  is  to 
the  former. 

Well,  very  like  to  this  is  it  with  man  and  the  two 
methods  adopted  for  his  betterment ;  the  one  method 
inspired  by  the  gospel,  the  other  attempted  by  the 


ITS  NATURE  AND  EFFICIENCY.  43 

wisdom  of  the  world.  Man  is  crooked  and  dwarfed 
by  nature.  His  faculties  are  contorted,  and  doubled 
in  upon  themselves ;  and,  spiritually,  he  is  ridged  and 
covered  all  over  with  the  protuberance  of  evil  habits, 
and  not  seldom  foul  with  the  excrescence  of  passion 
and  appetites ;  and  there  are  only  two  ways  to  rec- 
tify and  reform  him.  He  must  be  operated  upon  from 
within,  or  from  without.  External  force  must  be 
applied,  or  internal  force  generated.  And  so  educa- 
tion comes  along  and  lays  hold  of  him,  striving  to 
straighten  him,  but  fails  ;  and  morality  saws  away  at 
his  rougher  vices,  and,  to  its  honor  be  it  said,  often 
removes  them  ;  and  polite  culture  trims  down  his 
coarseness ;  and  the  fear  of  public  opinion  represses 
his  gnarled  devilishness :  but  in  spite  of  education, 
which  never  made  a  saint  yet,  and  not  seldom  makes 
the  reverse  ;  and  in  spite  of  morality,  which  is  no  more 
to  a  man's  temper  than  a  curb-bit  is  to  a  fractious 
horse,  which  restrains,  but  does  not  remove,  his  vicious- 
ness  ;  and  in  spite  of  polite  culture,  which  never  did 
any  thing  more  than  to  patch  over  the  manifestations 
of  depravity  ;  and  regardless  of  public  opinion,  which 
prevents  more  thieving  than  jails,  —  the  man  remains 
crooked  in  his  disposition,  coarse  and  unlovely.  There 
is  no  power  under  heaven,  acting  solely  from  the  out- 
side upon  human  nature,  that  ever  did  more  than  to 
make  men  decent ;  ever  did  more  than  protect  so- 
ciety from  the  grosser  and  more  positive  exhibitions 
of  appetite  and  passion.  Holiness  of  nature  and  of 
act  never  flowered  out  from  such  a  planting. 

But  observe :    let  God  draw  nigh  to  a    man,  and 


44  CHRISTIAN  EAITH  : 

•essay  his  rectification,  and  where  does  he  begin  ? 
With  the  outside  ?  No  :  he  begins  at  the  man's  heart. 
He  goes  to  the  very  roots  of  all  his  growth,  and 
charges  the  very  currents  of  his  innermost  life  with 
new  functions.  He  penetrates  and  infuses  the  man's 
spiritual  system  with  healthy  and  operant  elements. 
He  does  not  attempt  to  filter  the  stream  :  he  goes 
at  once  to  the  very  fountain-head  of  ail  his  activities, 
and  says,  "  Here  let  me  purify  this,  and  the  current 
will  clarify  itself."  That,  friends,  is  the  philosophy  of 
regeneration,  as  it  is  called,  —  of  the  Spirit's  work  in 
the  heart ;  and  I  submit  if  there  ever  was  a  philosophy 
plainer,  simpler,  or  more  readily  apprehended.  There 
is  no  mystery  about  it.  It  is  only  this :  sweeten  the 
flower,  and  the  breeze  will  be  scented. 

You  see  at  a  glance  what  spiritual  economy  there 
is  in  this  arrangement.  There  is  no  waste  of  power, 
no  misapplication  of  effort.  You  educate  a  man,  and 
he  will  forget  the  lesson ;  you  moralize,  and  the  im- 
pression passes  away ;  you  threaten  him  with  penal- 
ties, and  he  takes  refuge  in  his  cunning,  and  defies 
law  :  but  }^ou  correct  his  disposition,  you  change  his 
heart,  you  purify  and  ennoble  his  motives,  and  you 
have  secured  all  you  desired  at  one  stroke.  Protect 
the  reservoir,  and  all  the  pipes  will  run  clean.  Not 
only  this :  the  man  himself  is  not  only  pure  and 
just  and  benevolent,  but  he  communicates  these  to 
others.  A  friend  sent  a  bunch  of  English  violets  to 
my  study  the  other  day,  and  they  filled  the  whole 
room  with  their  perfume.  They  did  it  without  any 
effort ;  without  trying  to  do  it.     They  seemed  to  say, 


ITS  NATURE  AND  EFFICIENCY.  45 

"  It  is  our  life  to  be  sweet :  when  we  are  not  longer 
sweet,  we  shall  be  dead ;  for  while  we  have  any 
existence,  any  vitality  in  us,  we  must  be  fragrant." 
And  so  they  yielded  themselves  upon  the  air,  and 
passed  away,  and  died,  —  dying  as  they  had  lived, 
imparting  sweetness.  And  for  three  entire  days 
they  made  my  study  like  a  meadow;  and  I  thought 
and  wrote  of  God  as  if  I  were  seated  amid  the 
grasses  when  the  moist  earth  and  flowers  mingle 
their  breath  in  the  warm  sunshine.  And  so  it  is 
with  a  Christian  whose  heart  has  been  changed  from 
what  it  was  by  nature  by  the  regenerating  influence 
of  the  Spirit.  Such  a  person  cannot  prevent  his 
fervor  and  purity  from  spreading  and  communicating 
themselves.  Why,  if  you  are  patient  and  pure-minded 
and  charitable,  how  can  a  person  come  nigh  you,  and 
not  be  impressed  by  these  qualities  ?  Mirth  is  not 
one-half  as  contagious  as  goodness.  It  passes  from 
lip  to  lip,  and  heart  to  heart,  as  birds  pass  from  one 
tree  to  another,  singing  as  they  go.  It  is  the  common 
property  of  the  world  as  truly  as  the  fragrance  of  an 
orchard  in  June  is  the  property  of  all  who  pass  it. 
The  owner  cannot  fence  it  in  and  monopolize  it.  God 
has  seen  to  it  that  the  sources  of  human  delight,  the 
creations  that  minister  to  human  happiness,  shall  never 
become  the  exclusive  property  of  any.  He  has  placed 
them  above  the  laws  of  earthly  ownership.  And  so 
the  trees  flower,  and  the  winds  that  know  no  fences 
nor  bounds  waft  their  sweetness  every  which  way ; 
and  the  laborer  who  does  not  own  a  rod  of  ground, 
and  the  beggar  who  does  not  deserve  to  own  one,  — 


46  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  : 

for  he  is  too  lazy  to  work  for  it,  —  and  the  little  child 
on  its  way  to  school,  all  can  breathe  the  delicious  air 
that  the  rich  man's  orchard  has  sweetened.  And  so 
it  is  with  goodness.  You  cannot  keep  it  to  yourself. 
It  is  as  unselfish  as  a  blossom.  Its  very  life  consists 
in  moving  and  blessing.  It  is  river-like  ;  and,  as  you 
all  know,  a  river  not  only  fills  its  own  banks,  but  has 
its  great  beneficent  freshet  seasons,  when  it  overflows 
its  ordinary  limits,  and  pours  the  rich  and  enriching 
tide  of  its  fertilization  over  all  the  country  round 
about  it.  And  so  the  human  heart,  once  empty  and 
dry  as  a  river's  bed  in  August,  fed  and  filled  from 
the  hidden  sources  of  God's  imparted  love,  swells  and 
rises  in  all  the  current  and  outgoing  of  its  affections, 
and  overflows  in  blessing  on  all  mankind.  It  is  a 
very  mockery  of  this  beautiful  and  primal  law  of  God 
touching  the  communication  and  common  fellowship 
of  goodness,  that  men  will  flock  together,  and  form 
cliques  and  circles,  shutting  themselves  up  within 
sectarian  and  denominational  lines,  and  strive  to  be 
dissimilar,  when  God  by  the  touch  of  his  Spirit  has 
converted  them  from  the  antagonisms  of  nature  and 
unbelief,  and  made  them  to  be  as  one  in  Christ  Jesus, 
with  one  faith,  one  Lord,  one  baptism.  It  is  unwise  ; 
it  is  wrong.  It  is  elevating  human  taste  and  prefer- 
ence and  prejudice  above  the  aspiration  of  Christ 
and  the  purest  longing  of  a  sanctified  heart ;  which 
is,  that  all  the  children  of  God,  and  all  those  the  world 
over  who  would  fain  be  children,  being  prevented  by 
reason  of  their  ignorance  touching  the  method  of 
adoption,  may  be  one,  united  each  unto  all,  and  al] 


ITS  NATURE  AND  EFFICIENCY.  47 

unto  each,  even  as  are  the  branches  of  a  tree,  which 
improve  their  fellowship  by  growth,  and  get  nearer 
unto  each  other  as  they  strike  their  roots  the  deeper 
into  the  centre  of  a  common  trunk. 

But  I  must  not  diverge  from  the  central  thought. 
I  am  striving  to  illustrate  the  difference  between  the 
gospel  plan  of  reforming  men  and  those  that  ignore 
the  work  of  the  Spirit  in  the  heart,  and  to  show  you 
the  superiority  of  the  former  over  the  latter.  I  wish 
you  all  to  appreciate  the  vast,  world-wide  difference 
between  the  Christian  religion  and  those  religions  and 
philosophies  that  take  no  account  of  the  new  birth, 
and  leave  the  atonement  of  Christ  entirely  out  of  the 
problem.  I  desire  that  you  who  are  merely  moralists 
as  contrasted  with  Christians ;  you  who  are  striving 
with  your  own  powers  of  will,  unassisted  and  uncor- 
rected of  God,  to  make  yourselves  better,  —  may  to- 
day realize  that  you  are  fighting  a  hopeless  fight. 
You  are  working  only  from  the  outside,  in  the  way  of 
pressure  and  restriction ;  whereas,  if  ever  developed 
at  all,  you  will  be  developed  in  holiness  in  the  way  of 
germination  and  expansion.  You  are  striving  to  make 
a  crab-tree  bear  peaches  by  pruning  it.  You  put 
your  hope  in  the  saw  and  the  knife,  and  not  in  the 
inserted  slip ;  whereas,  as  you  all  know,  a  new  and 
higher  order  of  life  must  be  grafted  into  it  or  ever  it 
will  bear  any  thing  better  or  sweeter  than  the  expres- 
sion of  its  own  original  bitterness.  I  ask  you,  there- 
fore, to  give  over  your  useless  attempt.  You  are 
proceeding  on  wrong  principles  of  arboriculture.  You 
are  flying  in  the  very  face  of  Nature,  which  ordains 


48  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  : 

that  like  shall  produce  like.  I  ask  you  that  your 
eyes  may  no  longer  remain  shut,  but  stand  open  in 
recognition  of  your  past  folly  ;  and  that  you  "  receive 
with  meekness  the  ingrafted  word,  that  is  able  to  save 
your  souls."  That  is  a  criminal  folly  that  refuses 
assistance  in  an  effort  so  pregnant  with  grave  conse- 
quences to  you  in  your  relation  to  either  world  as  is 
this  in  which  you  are  engaged.  I  know  that  this  ap- 
plies only  to  you,  in  this  audience,  who  are  sincerely 
desirous  of  living  better  lives  than  you  have  lived, 
and  who  have  solemnly  declared  to  yourselves  that 
your  future  shall  be  of  a  different  complexion  from 
your  past.  I  do  not  say,  friend,  that  you  cannot  live 
a  better  life  than  you  have  lived  without  becoming  a 
Christian,  —  without  such  experience  of  repentance 
and  faith  as  the  Gospels  enjoin  upon  all  to  have :  for 
shame  will  do  much,  and  fear  morej  and  by  mere 
force  of  will,  by  sheer  determination,  you  will  be  able 
to  keep  within  the  limits  of  safety  as  denned  by  human 
law.  You  may  be  able,  from  sources  of  resolution 
within  yourself,  to  leave  off  drinking,  and  break  off 
swearing,  and  withhold  yourself  from  the  grosser  pol- 
lutions of  past  indulgence.  But  this  I  will  say  to  you, 
and  you  must  allow  it,  for  it  is  true,  that  there  is  not 
a  thing  which  you  intend  to  do  that  you  cannot  do 
easier  with  God's  help  than  you  can  without  it,  and 
that  many  things  that  you  should  do  you  never  will 
nor  can  do  unless  you  are  assisted  of  him.  You  will 
never  love  him  unless  he  shall  "  create  within  you  a 
new  heart."  You  will  never  obey  him  unless  love  shall 
prompt  you  to  such  obedience.    You  will  never  stand 


ITS   NATURE   AND   EFFICIENCY.  49 

acquitted  before  the  law  which  for  years  you  have 
disobeyed,  unless,  in  penitence  and  contrition,  you  ask 
for  pardon.  Come,  then,  in  faith  to  Christ ;  not  in 
a  faith  that  is  without  works,  or  that  undervalues 
works,  but  that  quickens  you  to  work,  and  is  mani- 
fested by  works ;  a  faith  which,  while  it  relies  on  the 
mercy  of  God  alone  for  salvation,  is  as  active  and  dili- 
gent and  watchful  as  if  it  relied  entirely  on  itself.  I 
do  not  preach  a  Christ  to  you  that  saves  his  people 
by  working  for  them  alone,  but  by  working  in  them, 
and  thus  disposing  them  to  work  out  their  own  salva- 
tion. He  has  never  saved,  he  never  will  save,  a  single 
soul,  independent  of  its  own  activities,  —  such  as  love, 
repentance,  obedience,  and  the  constant  use  of  all  the 
helps  and  agencies  of  the  Gospels ;  but  he  has  saved, 
and  will  save,  all  who,  thus  prayerfully  and  zealously 
co-operating  with  him,  strive  to  make  their  calling 
and  election  sure.  He  mercifully  begins  that  work  in 
your  hearts  which  you  and  he  both,  acting  in  har- 
monious alliance,  your  wills  being  jdelded  to  his  guid- 
ance, carry  forward  until  you  are  perfected  in  holiness. 
Do  you  all  catch  the  idea  ?  Do  your  minds  clearly 
apprehend  the  philosoplry  of  the  thing  ?  Do  you  see 
the  beauty,  the  fitness,  the  harmony  of  this  plan  of 
salvation,  which  begins  in  the  soul,  and  works  outward, 
first  purifying  its  thoughts  and  motives,  and  in  this 
way  correcting  the  conduct  ?  What  other  plan  is  so 
feasible,  so  economic  of  moral  forces,  so  evidently  of 
God,  so  honorable  to  men  ?  Be  persuaded,  then,  all 
of  you  to  whom  my  words  come,  and  apply  to  Heaven 
for  help.     Go  no  more  into  the  battle  against  Satan 


50  CHRISTIAN   FAITH  : 

naked  and  without  weapons,  when  you  can,  if  you 
choose,  be  perfectly  equipped  at  all  points.  Am  I  to 
stand  by  and  see  you  swept  down  by  your  afflictions, 
deceived  by  errors,  misdirected  by  false  prophets,  led 
captive  by  your  sins,  dying  without  hope,  and  ushered 
into  the  presence  of  God  without  an  advocate  to  plead 
for  you,  when  you  can  have  a  Teacher  and  Comforter 
and  Helper  and  a  Saviour  for  the  asking  ?  If  I  cannot 
prevail  upon  you  who  are  rich  and  educated  and 
physically  strong,  and  to  whom  death  seems  as  a  far- 
off  event,  let  me  address  myself  to  some  ignorant  per- 
son here,  some  day-laborer,  some  poverty-stricken 
one,  or  some  one  weakened  by  disease,  unto  whose 
soul  death  appears  as  an  event  soon  to  be  experienced  ; 
or  some  poor  woman  without  a  husband  or  love  or 
home  ;  to  some  unfortunate  person  unto  whom  life  is 
only  a  multiplication  of  labors  and  griefs  and  disap- 
pointments ;  and  to  all  you  who  feel  your  deep  un- 
worthiness  before  God,  and  are  ready  to  ask,  "  What 
must  we  do  to  be  saved  ?  "  — let  me  turn,  my  friends, 
to  you,  and  say,  "  Call  on  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  you  shall  be  saved."  Let  me  remind  you 
of  your  past  struggles  with  the  Tempter,  in  which  he 
has  always  proved. over-strong  for  you  ;  of  the  sinful 
habits  against  which  you  have  made  so  many  resolu- 
tions in  vain ;  of  your  defeat  and  failure  in  every  effort 
to  lead  a  godly  life ;  and,  borrowing  from  the  great 
apostle  when  he  broke  out  in  his  letter  to  the  Ephe- 
sians,  exhort  you  :  — 

"  Stand,   therefore,   having  your  loins   girt   about 
with  truth,  and  having  on  the  breastplate  of  righteous- 


ITS  NATURE   AND   EFFICIENCY.  51 

ness,  and  your  feet  shod  with  the  preparation  of  the 
gospel  of  peace ;  above  all,  taking  the  shield  of 
faith,  wherewith  ye  shall  be  able  to  quench  all  the 
fiery  darts  of  the  wicked.  And  take  the  helmet  of 
salvation,  and  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  which  is  the 
word  of  God :  praying  always  with  all  prayer  and 
supplication  in  the  Spirit,  and  watching  thereunto  with 
all  perseverance  and  supplication  for  all  saints ;  and  " 
—  last,  but  not  least —  "for  me,  that  utterance  may 
be  given  me,  that  I  may  open  my  mouth  boldly  to 
make  known  the  mystery  of  the  gospel." 

I  have  now  spoken  of  the  nature  of  that  faith  which 
has  for  its  residence  the  heart  of  man,  and  pointed 
out  the  mode  of  its  efficiency  upon  the  life.  We  de- 
prive from  the  text  one  or  two  other  suggestions,  which 
we  will  proceed  to  expand.  "  He  that  believeth  on 
me,"  said  Christ,  "  out  of  his  heart  shall  flow  rivers  of 
living  water" 

The  idea  in  the  phrase,  "rivers  of  living  water," 
is  one  of  plenitude.  The  heart  that  accepts  Christ, 
that  is  directed  and  impelled  by  the  Spirit,  shall  not 
be  the  source  of  one  good  influence,  but  of  many 
good  influences.  A  hundred  separate  sources  of 
benevolence  are  opened  in  it.  Along  a  hundred  chan- 
nels of  communication  the  Christian  blesses  the  world. 
A  man  with  a  converted  heart  in  his  bosom  is  as  a 
tree,  when,  through  a  thousand  blossoms,  it  distils  its 
sweetness  upon  the  breeze.  The  very  air  disseminates 
his  virtues,  and  the  whole  neighborhood  in  which  he 
lives  becomes  morally  fragrant.     You  send  a  dozen 


52  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  : 

missionaries  to  a  heathen  community,  and  see  if  this 
picture  is  not  realized.  You  might  as  well  light  a 
dozen  gas-jets  in  a  room,  and  expect  it  to  remain  dark, 
as  to  think  that  ignorance  and  superstition  could  resist 
the  outshining  piety  of  those  men  and  women. 

Furthermore,  the  influence  of  a  converted  heart  is 
not  only  abundant ;  it  is  active.  The  water  to  which 
it  is  likened  is  living  water.  A  converted  man's  vir- 
tue does  not  stagnate ;  it  is  not  gathered  into  a  reser- 
voir of  reserve  moral  force  for  the  world's  great 
emergencies.  The  emergencies  of  the  world  are 
every-day  emergencies  ;  and  hence  the  activity  of  true 
godliness  is  an  every-day  activity. 

I  know  that  some  think  otherwise.  There  is  a  vir- 
tue that  is  pyramid-like,  —  stately,  solemn,  and  oppres- 
sive ;  good  to  look  at,  and,  for  aught  I  know,  good4 
for  nothing  else.  Superstitious  ignorance  and  stupid 
piety  bow  down  to  the  feet  of  it,  and  exclaim,  "  What 
a  spiritually-minded  man ! "  "  What  a  devout  and 
holy  woman!"  But  what  does  this  austere,  this 
eternally  self-possessed,  this  glacier-like  piety  do? 
It  wraps  itself  in  the  mantle  of  cold  reserve,  and 
looks  with  its  sphinx-like  face  at  the  crowd  below. 
My  friends,  I  take  no  stock  in  that  sort  of  piety.  I 
like  self-possession  ;  I  like  reserve  ;  I  love  to  see  in  all 
of  you  decorum  and  true  dignity :  but  I  dislike  to  the 
last  limit  of  expression  a  saintliness  cool  and  pointed 
and  unsympathetic  as  an  animated  icicle.  I  believe 
that  nine-tenths  of  that  kind  of  piety  is  sheer  formal- 
ism ;  a  severe,  castigated,  and  un-Christ-like  discipline 
of  nerve  and  voice  and  eye.     Where  is  the  genial 


ITS  NATURE  AND  EFFICIENCY.  53 

overflow  of  love,  the  gush  of  sympathy,  and  the 
warm-handed  act  of  assistance?  Where  is  the  soft 
gentleness  that  stoops  to  all,  and  the  tenderness  that 
encourages  all,  and  the  frankness  that  invites  all? 
These  qualities  are  not  in  them.  There  is  not  a  poor 
unfortunate  in  Boston  that  would  lay  her  head  and 
sob  out  her  grief  on  the  bosom  of  such  a  Christian. 
There  is  not  an  honest  and  deserving  beggar  in  the 
city  that  would  go  up  to  a  door  if  he  saw  such  a 
man's  or  woman's  face  looking  out  of  the  window. 
And  yet,  as  you  know,  such  men  and  women  are 
deemed  superlatively  good  in  many  of  our  churches, 
and  held  up  as  examples  of  high  Christian  develop- 
ment ;  and  this,  too,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  there  is 
nothing  animated,  nothing  genial,  nothing  attractive, 
in  them.  Their  piety  is  not  like  "  living  water,"  full 
of  life  and  action,  of  ripple  and  flow,  pleasant  to 
hear,  and  free  to  the  thirsty.  No  :  it  is  like  a  river  of 
frozen  water,  —  a  beautiful,  hard,  smooth,  icy  affair  ; 
or  if  not,  if  it  has  any  life  and  motion  in  it,  it  is  a 
stately,  oppressive  movement,  which  men  merely  ad- 
mire and  wonder  at,  and  lead  in  channels  so  high 
above  their  heads,  that  not  one  lip  in  ten  thousand 
can  ever  touch  it.  Observe,  I  do  not  say  that  the 
conscientious  of  this  class  are  not  Christians ;  are  not 
connected  by  faith  to  Christ :  I  only  insist  and  pro- 
claim that  they  do  not  fitly  type  and  symbolize  t he- 
spirit  of  the  Gospels ;  they  do  not  give  one  a  true  and 
adequate  expression  of  Christ's  doctrine  ;  they  are  no 
proper  examples  for  young  Christians  to  copy  after. 
The  more  true  piety  a  man  has,  the  more  simple  and 


54  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  : 

frank  and  generous  he  is.  "  Except  ye  become  as 
little  children,  ye  cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven."  A  converted  person  is  one  the  windows  of 
whose  nature  have  been  thrown  wide  open,  and  the 
love  of  God  has  shined  into  him,  and  he  giveth  light 
to  all  that  are  in  the  house.  His  is  no  longer  a 
gloomy  and  morose  nature  :  it  is  a  sunny  and  fragrant 
nature.  Children  love  him  as  they  did  Christ ;  and 
children  never  love  sombre  and  solemn  men.  The 
poor  and  the  weak  love  him  ;  and  the  outcast,  despised 
of  others  and  despised  of  himself,  hearing  his  tender 
words  of  hope  and  cheer,  say,  "  If  God  is  like  him, 
then  there  may  be  hope  for  me ; "  and,  like  the 
woman  of  Canaan,  he  cries  out,  "  O  Lord,  Son  of 
David,  have  mercy  on  me !  " 

My  hearers,  remember  that  there  is  no  other  test 
of  piety  so  good  as  this.  A  disciple  that  so  incar- 
nates Christ,  so  embodies  the  principles  of  love  and 
mercy  that  he  embodied,  that  he  quickens  all  with 
whom  he  is  brought  in  contact  out  of  their  old  dead 
sinfulness,  and  fills  them  with  longing  and  crying 
after  holiness,  is  a  true  disciple  indeed.  I  should  be 
more  cheered  and  upheld  in  my  ministry  among  you 
to  know  that  one  poor,  weak,  erring,  and  downcast 
soul  would  go  away  from  this  house  at  the  close  of 
this  service  with  eyes  moistened  with  unwonted  tears, 
saying,  "  Oh  that  I  had  the  living  water  in  my  heart ! 
oh  that  I  might  feel  that  there  is  a  brighter  day  com- 
ing for  me!"  than  to  hear  all  of  you  who  are  white 
and  good  and  strong  say,  "  What  an  excellent  sermon 
we  have  had  this  morning !  how  much  better  I  feel 
for  it!" 


ITS   NATURE  AND   EFFICIENCY.  55 

Some  of  you,  I  suppose,  have  gardens ;  at  least,  I 
hope  you  have :  for  it  is  in  a  garden  that  one  gets 
back  nearest  to  the  experiences  our  first  parents  had 
before  they  sinned.  And  have  you  not  gone  out  just 
after  a  heavy  shower  had  passed,  and  found  all  the 
flowers  beaten  down  from  their  props,  the  roses  all 
dishevelled  and  woe-begone,  and  the  pinks  hiding 
their  sweet  faces  for  very  shame  that  you,  the  mis- 
tress, should  see  them  so  soiled,  and  spattered  with 
dirt  ?  And  did  woman  or  girl  ever  find  sweeter  em- 
ployment than  to  go  to  each  disentangled  vine,  and 
lift  and  re  twine  it  in  its  old  place,  and  re  tie  the  split 
buds,  and  wash  the  ugly  dirt  from  the  stained  and 
disconsolate  faces  of  the  pinks  ?  Ah  me,  what  gar- 
dening that  is !  and  how  it  makes  one  hate  bricks  and 
cities  to  think  of  it ! 

And  is  there  any  work  so  delightful  to  a  Christian  as 
to  go  to  those  poor  souls,  which  are  but  God's  flow- 
ers, that  sorrow  and  sin  have  beaten  down,  and  lift 
them  tenderly,  and  wash  them  from  adhering  vices, 
and  twine  them  around  the  sure  support  of  some 
sky-reaching  hope  ?  I  tell  you,  that  the  men  and  wo- 
men Avho  do  that  have  the  "  living  water  "  in  their 
hearts,  and  are  the  only  ones  who  exemplify  Christ 
and  the  nature  of  his  religion;  and  I  would  that 
you  all  might  feel  this,  and  not  go  on  taking  false 
models  to  yourselves,  and  educating  yourselves  in 
word  and  act  and  spirit  farther  and  farther  away 
from  that  state  of  heart  which  you  must  reach  before 
the  same  mind  will  be  in  you  that  was  in  Christ 
Jesus. 


56  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  : 

But,  if  a  person  has  a  piety  of  this  quality  in  his 
heart,  he  must  and  will  do  such  deeds,  unless  he  is  re- 
strained by  wrong  education  or  the  opposition  of  cir- 
cumstances. "  Living  water  "  must  run  and  spread 
and  nourish :  did  it  not,  it  would  not  be  living  water, 
but  dead,  stagnant  water.  And  Christ  teaches  in  the 
text,  that  the  heart  which  has  faith  in  him  must 
be  an  active,  sympathetic  heart.  By  the  law  of  its 
renewed  nature  it  is  thus.  You  may  go  to  the  sun- 
beam, and  try  to  darken  it ;  but  its  radiance  is  om- 
nipotent, and  you  cannot  convert  it  into  blackness. 
And  so  it  is  with  the  renewed  heart:  you  cannot 
disintegrate  it ;  you  cannot  take  that  which  chiefly 
characterizes  it  away. 

One  more  suggestion.  Christ  said,  "  Out  of  his 
heart  shall  flow  living  water." 

That  is  what  we  all  want,  my  friends.  We  want 
our  natures  to  be  in  such  a  state,  that  all  manner 
of  good  shall  flow  out  of  them ;  that  is,  come  forth 
naturally  and  spontaneously.  Holiness  should  come 
as  easily  and  naturally  out  of  the  renewed  nature  as 
sin  did  out  of  the  old  unrenewed  nature.  Some  peo- 
ple eject  goodness.  Their  good  acts  are  delivered 
like  the  report  of  a  gun ;  not  a  minute-gun,  either. 
I  have  seen  men  who  were  six  months  in  loading ;  and, 
when  they  were  ready  to  explode  with  benevolence, 
they  flashed  in  the  pan  !  There  is  a  certain  concus- 
sive  abruptness  in  their  efforts  to  do  their  duty.  After 
four  or  five  years,  during  all  the  weeks  of  which  they 
haven't  even  ticked,  a  revival  occurs,  and  the  good 
brother  goes  off  like  an  alarm-clock.     Now,  that  h 


ITS  NATURE  AND  EFFICIENCY.  57 

not  the  Christian  method.  I  presume  that  Christ  — 
who  is  our  pattern,  remember  —  never  made  au  isolat- 
ed, positive  resolution  to  do  a  good  deed  in  his  life. 
He  never  worked  himself  up  to  a  pitch  of  activity,  and 
said,  "  Now  I  am  going  to  work ;  now  I  will  shake 
off  this  apathy,  and  attend  to  my  Father's  business." 
His  will  never  had  to  assist  his  disposition.  In  im- 
pulse and  desire,  he  was  ever  ahead  of  decision  and 
opportunity.  Doing  good  —  he  called  it  doing  his 
Father's  will  —  was  the  law,  the  natural  exhibition, 
of  his  life.  Who  ever  saw  a  bobolink  shoot  up  from 
amid  the  matted  clover-heads,  and  imagine  that  it  was 
any  task  for  him  to  sing  ;  that  he  had  scolded  himself 
into  the  effort ;  or  that  a  company  of  neighboring 
bobolinks  had  been  compelled  to  exhort  him  to  rouse 
himself  and  make  the  attempt  ?  Why,  his  wings 
ached  to  fly,  and  his  little  throat  was  full  to  swelling 
with  the  crowding  notes ;  and  all  he  had  to  do  was  to 
open  his  mouth,  and  the  carol  came  out.  And  so  it 
is  with  a  truly  converted  soul.  It  nests  amid  the 
blossoming  mercies  of  God,  and  is  full  of  love  and 
sympathy,  of  charity  and  tenderness.  These  are 
truly  the  expression  of  its  life.  They  come  forth  un- 
forced. They  can  never  be  concealed.  There  is 
something  exceedingly  repulsive  to  me  in  the  thought 
that  the  line  of  duty,  of  sheer  obligation,  bounds  the 
fullest  expression  of  my  life  in  Christ ;  that  my  sym- 
pathies are  so  sluggish,  so  low-blooded,  as  to  need 
the  spur  of  duty  to  quicken  their  lagging  pace  ;  that 
there  is  no  sweet  sentiment  in  my  heart  to  come  out 
toward  my  fellow-men  as  the  waters  come  out  of  a 

3* 


58  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  : 

spring,  because  of  the  uplifting,  irresistible  pressure 
of  unseen  fulness  from  within  ;  that  none  live  on 
earth,  or  will  come  and  greet  me  in  heaven,  save  those 
of  whom  my  knowledge  and  memory  have  cognizance, 
and  whom  my  will  benefited. 

Ah,  no  !  Rather  let  me  have  the  hope  of  living  so 
that  I  shall  bless  many  beyond  my  knowledge,  and 
be  like  the  rivers  of  living  water,  which  never  know 
how  many  roots  they  moisten,  how  much  growth 
they  cause,  or  how  many  flowers  found  fragrance 
possible  to  them  because  of  their  gracious  tide. 

My  friends,  how  many  of  you  are  living  such  a 
life  ?  How  many  of  you  have  attained  to  this  level  of 
ceaseless  and  natural  outgoing  of  goodness  ?  How 
many  have  this  living  water  in  your  hearts,  and  are 
so  full  of  the  qualities  of  blessing  that  you  can  never 
know  how  many  you  bless  ?  Not  all  of  you,  certainly. 
Let  us,  then,  inquire,  Where  can  one  find  this  living 
water  ?  Whence  comes  to  us  this  power,  this  grace, 
to  live,  that  evermore  shall  flow  out  from  us  such  in- 
fluences to  man?  It  can  be  found,  my  hearers,  I 
respond,  in  Christ ;  and  in  no  one  else  can  it  be  found. 

Is  there  not  some  one  in  whose  society  you  are  bet- 
ter than  when  with  others ;  whose  presence  is  a  kind 
of  benediction  in  its  power  to  calm  and  better  you  ; 
in  whose  presence  all  bad  thoughts  flee  away,  and  all 
good  ones  gain  ascendency  ?  Have  we  grown  so  old, 
so  far  away  from  our  childhood,  that  the  calm  majesty 
of  countenance,  the  sweet  placidness  of  feature,  the 
sound'  of  an  honest  or  tuneful  voice,  the  light  of  frank 
and  loving  eyes,  cannot  charm  us  ?      Why,  I  think 


ITS  NATURE  AND  EFFICIENCY.  59 

I  have  seen  faces  which  had  so  much  of  strength  and 
patience  and  heaven  in  them,  so  much  of  that  ex- 
pression that  limners  give  to  the  beloved  disciple,  that 
nothing  mean  and  low  and  vile  could  live  in  the  light 
of  them.  And  I  have  often  thought  how  much  hap- 
pier and  better  some  people  would  have  been  had 
their  lot  and  companionship  been  other  than  they  are. 
It  is  hard  to  live  with  no  inspiration  near  you ;  with 
the  heavy  drag  of  the  days  on  your  soul,  and  no 
strong  upsweeping  current  on  which  to  rise.  Well, 
in  Christ  every  longing  and  loving  heart  finds  just 
such  a  friend,  only  one  more  abundantly  so.  Select 
the  best  person  you  know,  — that  one  who  helps  you 
most ;  who  comes  nearest  to  your  ideal  of  goodness 
and  strength ;  with  whom,  in  your  reverential  mo- 
ments, you  have  often  thought,  if  you  could  only  con- 
tinually be,  you  could  never  sin,  —  select  such  a  one, 
I  say,  deepen  his  sympathies  and  multiply  his  powers 
a  thousand-fold,  and  think  of  him  as  loving  you  with 
an  infinite  love,  and  you  have  the  Christ  that  I  preach 
as  your  Saviour  and  your  Lord.  Now,  on  the  suppo- 
sition that  I  have  not  exaggerated  his  feelings  toward 
you,  who  of  you  all  are  ready  to  go  to  him  to-day  ? 
Who  of  you,  taking  all  your  sins  of  thought  and  act, 
and  casting  them  under  your  feet  as  things  to  be 
hated,  abhorred,  and  trampled  upon,  will  go  to  Jesus, 
and  say,  "  Here  I  am :  oh  !  let  me  be  numbered  among 
your  friends  "  ? 

Life  has  its  epochs,  its  crises,  its  seasons  of  reflec- 
tion and  change.  Many  men,  having  passed  through 
years  of  indulgence,  have  come  to  a  point  when  and 


60  CHRISTIAN   FAITH  : 

where  God  rallied  all  the  forces  of  his  own  and  of 
hnman  love  in  their  behalf,  lifted  them  out  of  the 
mire  of  their  past  life,  and  put  a  new  heart  and  a 
new  purpose  in  them  ;  and  from  that  day,  ever  after, 
they  lived  a  happy  and  upright  life.  This  is  proven 
by  the  experience  of  many  of  you.  Now,  perhaps, 
here  and  there  in  this  audience  is  a  man  or  wo- 
man who  reaches  just  such  a  point  as  this  to-day. 
For  several  weeks  you  have  been  reflecting  upon 
your  spiritual  condition.  The  more  you  have  looked 
at  your  life  as  gauged  by  the  word  of  God,  the  more 
have  you  seen  your  wickedness.  You  realize  at  last  — 
what  a  mercy  that  it  isn't  too  late  !  —  the  set  of  the 
current.  You  feel,  that,  during  all  the  years  back  of 
you,  you  have  been  gliding  downward.  You  had  no 
idea  that  you  had  drifted  so  far  from  the  innocence  of 
your  youth.  My  friend,  I  am  saying  this  personally 
to  you  ;  and  I  say  that  now  is  your  time,  now  is  the 
very  hour,  for  you  to  turn  about.  If  you  regret  your 
past ;  if  you  dread  to  repeat  its  sins  of  thought  and 
act ;  if  you  long  for  a  nobler  and  purer  experience  ; 
if  you  would  fain  be  at  peace  with  God,  and  have 
the  burden  of  guilt  rolled  from  off  your  conscience, 
where  it  now  torments  you,  —  then  is  your  duty 
plain,  —  as  plain  as  the  doors  of  your  dwellings  at 
noonday.  To  you  is  the  invitation  of  the  text ;  and 
the  majestic  overture  of  Christ  swells  out  for  your 
ear  to  hear,  for  your  heart  to  receive,  saying,  "  If  any 
man  thirst,  let  him  come  to  me" 

It  is  not  a  matter  of  creeds;  it  is  not  a  matter  of 
disputed  doctrines  :  it  is  a  matter  of  personal  appli- 


ITS  NATURE  AND  EFFICIENCY.  61 

cation  to  the  Saviour.  The  returned  and  repentant 
prodigal  did  not  need  to  read  a  treatise  on  family 
government  when  his  arms  were  around  his  father's 
neck,  and  his  tear-filled  eyes  were  buried  in  the  folds 
of  his  father's  robe.  What  he  wanted  then  —  and  he 
had  it — was  a  sense  of  his  father's  presence  ;  a  sense 
of  his  undiminished  love ;  a  heartfelt  feeling  that  he 
was  forgiven.  So  it  is  with  you.  I  desire,  not  that 
you  should  think  of  the  divine  government  as  I  do : 
I  desire  that  you  should  feel,  touching  God,  as  the 
prodigal  felt  touching  his  father,  —  that  the  Deity  is 
near  you  ;  that  his  love,  long  slighted,  long  forgotten, 
is  clasping  you  in  its  arms,  and  his  face,  flushed  with 
a  great  joy,  is  over  you,  even  as  the  heavens  with  all 
their  glory  are  over  the  earth  at  night. 

"  If  any  man  thirst."  Is  there  one  here  who  does 
not  thirst  ?  Have  the  wells  of  the  earth  met  your 
wants  ?  Have  the  fountains  of  the  world  fully  satis- 
fied the  longing  of  your  souls  ?  Oh  !  life  is  gay,  and 
we  make  it  merry  with  our  feigned  or  sinful  mirth. 
Each  has  a  favorite  phantom,  and  he  chases  it ;  each 
heart  its  concealed  idol,  and  the  temple  of  our  selfish 
loves  are  filled  with  the  incense  that  forever  burns 
upon  their  unblessed  altars.  We  find  our  joys  in  de- 
lirium, and  our  activity  in  fever.  And  yet  I  know, 
I  feel,  that  man  is  too  vast  in  his  capacity,  too  mighty 
in  his  strength,  to  be  satisfied  with  these.  If  the 
fastening  of  the  mask  should  part,  we  should  stand 
amazed  at  the  pallor  and  wretchedness  of  the  face 
behind  it.  And  none  save  God,  who  made  us  great 
enough  to  suffer  greatly,  knows  what  we  endure  even 


62  CHRISTIAN  FAITH. 

in  the  days  that  men  count  our  triumphs.  No,  no  1 
not  here  do  we  find  peace.  Even  as  the  heavens 
alone  are  wide  enough  to  hold  all  the  stars,  so  in 
Christ  alone  does  man  find  all  he  needs.  In  him  the 
intellect  and  heart  behold  a  shoreless  sea,  —  a  sea 
whose  farther  beach,  if  beach  there  be,  no  voyaging 
of  thought,  no  flight  of  winged  fancy,  shall  ever 
touch.  Launch  then,  ye  voyagers  toward  eternity, 
upon  this  sea  to-day.  Cast  j^ourselves  on  Christ,  and 
feel  beneath  you  the  uplifting  motion  of  his  life,  as 
ships  the  heaving  of  the  flooding  tide.  Let  not  your 
past  detain  you;  let  not  your  fears  intimidate.  I 
have  sailed  this  sea  myself  long  enough  to  know  that 
peace  broods  on  its  waters ;  and  thousands  who  once 
worshipped  here,  in  the  very  seats  in  which  you  sit, 
mailed  it  for  years  with  growing  joy,  and  passed  from 
jnortal  view  at  last,  as  vessels,  when  sailing  westward 
of  a  summer  day,  their  sails  and  yards  all  crimsoned, 
melt  gradually  from  sight  amid  the  radiance  of  the 
broad-faced  and  luminous  sun.  So  may  it  be  with 
you,  I  pray,  when  you  have  sunk  the  orb  of  this  mor- 
tal life  behind  you,  and  have  passed,  changing  from 
glory  unto  glory  as  you  go,  until  at  last  your  lives 
shall  be  hidden  with  Christ  in  God. 

"  And  on  the  last  day,  the  great  day  of  the  feast, 
Jesus  stood,  and  cried,  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him 
come  to  me,  and  drink.  He  that  believeth  in  me,  as 
the  Scripture  hath  said,  out  of  his  heart  shall  flow 
rivers  of  living  water." 


SABBATH  MORNING,  MARCH  26,  1871, 


SERMON. 


SUBJECT. -HOUSEHOLD  RELIGION;  OR,  THE  RELIGIOUS  EDUCATION  OF 
CHILDREN. 

"  Peace  be  to  this  house."  —  Luke  x.  5. 

I  WISH  to  speak  to  you  this  morning  upon  the 
subject  of  household  religion,  especially  that 
branch  of  it  which  relates  to  the  religious  education 
of  children,  —  a  subject  at  all  times  of  the  deepest 
interest,  but  especially  so  in  seasons  of  revival. 
Many  of  you  in  this  congregation  are  parents.  You 
represent  many  households.  Your  obligations  are 
peculiar.  You  feel  this  yourselves.  You  are  guar- 
dians over  many ;  and  the  prayerful  search  of  your 
hearts  is,  how  you  can  properly  discharge  your  duties 
as  parents  before  God..  It  is  in  reference  to  this  that 
I  am  to  speak  by  way  of  suggestion.  I  submit,  there- 
fore, to  your  judgments,  the  following  considera- 
tions :  — 

The  first  thing  you  need  to  remember,  as  parents,  is, 
that  you  have  no  ownership  in  your  children.  Before 
you  will  ever  feel  and  act  toward  them  as  you  should, 
you  must  have  a  heartfelt  conviction  that  they  are 

63 


64  HOUSEHOLD   RELIGION;   OR, 

God's  children  rather  than  your  own.  You  are  not  to 
dispose  of  them  as  you  wish,  but  as  he  wishes.  His 
desires,  not  yours,  are  to  be  consulted  in  their  educa- 
tion. You  are  to  train  them  to  be,  not  what  you 
would  have  them  to  be,  but  what  he  would  have  them 
to  be.  He  has  committed  them  to  your  care  for  a 
time,  to  train,  discipline,  and  instruct,  and  to  fit  them 
for  such  services,  and  mode  of  life,  as  he  shall  ordain. 
This  is  a  vital  point,  —  the  key  to  the  entire  problem. 
No  matter  how  zealous  you  are  ;  no  matter  how  ear- 
nest and  loving  and  conscientious  you  are  :  you  will 
never  educate  children  for  God  unless  you  feel  that 
they  are  his,  not  yours.  If  you  feel  that  they  are 
yours,  that  you  own  them,  you  will  be  likely  to 
educate  them  for  yourselves,  and  not  for  him ;  you 
will  strive  to  make  them  excel  in  things  that  are 
agreeable  to  you,  and  not  agreeable  to  him  :  and  the 
result  will  be,  that  without  realizing  it,  without  wish- 
ing it,  you  will  rob  God,  by  the  substitution  of  your 
own  wishes  in  their  education  and  development  in 
the  place  of  his.  He  will  be  divorced  from  his  own, 
and  his  own  will  not  know  him.  They  will  grow  up 
unfitted  for  his  service,  and  unconscious  of  his  father- 
hood over  them.  They  will  never  know  that  to  be 
true  which  the  Scripture  teaches,  —  that  God  is  the 
former  of  their  bodies,  the  father  of  their  spirits, 
whose  name  they  should  honor,  and  in  whose  service 
they  should  find  their  chief  delight. 

Secondly,  such  a  mistaken  conception  of  your  rela- 
tion to  your  children  will  lead  you  into  another  and 
greater  error,  —  non-submission  to  God  in  his  provi- 
dential dealings  with  them. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  EDUCATION  OF  CHILDREN.      65 

When  death  comes,  the  mother  feels  that  it  is  her 
child  that  has  been  taken.  She  has  not  loved  it  as  God's 
child,  bnt  as  her  own.  She  has  even  made  a  virtue 
of  appropriating  it  entirely  to  herself.  She  has  never 
admitted  to  her  own  heart,  she  has  perhaps  never 
dreamed,  that  any  one  save  herself  and  its  earthly 
father  had  any  claim  to  it,  any  right  touching  its 
disposal.  She  has  never  looked  upon  it  as  in  any  sense 
belonging  to  Heaven,  save  in  the  indirect  way  of  grace 
and  destiny ;  and  either  resents  what  appears  to  her 
affection  a  cruel  interference,  or,  if  she  submits,  does 
it  falteringly,  and  as  one  yields  to  a  mysterious  and 
unaccountable  mandate  coming  forth  from  an  authori- 
ty she  can  neither  resist  nor  understand.  The  result 
is  rebellion,  or  a  submission  born  of  a  cruel  necessity, 
and  accompanied  by  a  grief  uncontrolled  by  an  in- 
telligence touching  the  true  relation  which,  from  its 
very  birth  after  the  flesh,  it  sustained  to  God.  I  fear 
that  these  remarks  will  come  with  abruptness  and 
harshly  to  you  who  are  parents,  and  whose  habits  of 
thought  have  been  formed  on  the  basis  of  natural 
affection,  and  not  of  Scripture,  which  plainly  and  ex- 
pressly teaches  that  God  is  the  maker  of  our  bodies 
and  the  father  of  our  souls ;  that  parents  and  chil- 
dren alike  are  all  his  offspring,  and,  as  such,  absolute- 
ly and  without  limitation  his,  to  do  with  us  and  ours 
even  as  appears  good  in  his  sight  and  for  his  glory. 
But  it  is  not  given  unto  me  to  preach,  a  gospel  of  my 
own,  or  in  accordance  with  my  own  or  your  past 
habits  of  thought.  I  must  proclaim  what  is  con- 
tained in  the  Scriptures,  without  striving  to  accommo- 


66  HOUSEHOLD   RELIGION;   OR, 

date  it  to  your  feelings,  the  more  especially  if  your 
opinions  are  derived  from  other  sources  than  His  rev- 
elation of  Himself,  and  of  our  duties  toward  Him. 

Allow  me,  then,  to  exhort  you  who  are  parents 
to  no  longer  deceive  yourselves  touching  this  matter. 
The  continuance  of  this  error  in  your  minds  will  only 
work  mischief  to  yourselves  and  your  children.  Let 
the  head  of  every  household  in  this  congregation 
remember  from  this  day  onward  that  the  members 
of  that  household  are  not  his,  but  God's.  That  son, 
in  whom  you  take  such  pride,  whom  you  have  educat- 
ed and  are  educating,  your  prop,  your  stay,  —  father, 
that  boy  is  not  yours.  There  is  a  higher  claim  than 
yours  resting  upon  him  :  it  is  the  claim  of  his  Maker 
and  his  God.  His  body,  his  brain,  his  soul,  do  not, 
never  did,  and  never  can,  belong  to  you.  He  has  been 
intrusted  to  your  care :  you  were  elected,  by  your 
connection  with  his  birth,  to  be  his  guardian,  his 
teacher,  his  guide,  until  such  time  when  he  shall  be 
able  to  walk  alone ;  but  the  ultimate  authority  over 
him,  the  right  to  say  how  long  you  shall  continue 
to  hold  this  relation  to  him,  or  when  it  shall  cease,  — 
this  never  belonged  to  you.  It  is  not,  therefore,  for 
you  to  dispose  of  his  life,  or  say  where  the  locality  of 
it  shall  be.  When  his  real  Father  desires  his  presence, 
he  will  call.  When  he  calls,  do  thou  surrender  him, 
and  bid  him  go  as  one  who  does  not  belong  to  you. 
He  leaves  your  house  to  return  to  his  Father's.  He 
dwelt  with  you ;  but  his  home  was  never  with  you,  but 
with  God. 

The  dedication  of  children  to  God  in  baptism  is  but 


THE   RELIGIOUS   EDUCATION   OF   CHILDREN.       67 

the  acknowledgment  of  this  truth.  In  this  act  of 
dedication,  of  surrender,  we  publicly  affirm  our  belief 
in  God's  ownership  in  our  children.  Feeling  this  to 
be  the  case,  we  publicly  acknowledge  it.  We  take 
the  church  and  world  to  witness  that  we  consider 
these  little  ones  as  God's ;  and  we,  as  is  our  bounden 
duty,  give  them  up  to  him  gladly,  lovingly.  This  is 
the  real  significance  of  baptismal  dedication.  The  same 
is  true  touching  the  baptism  of  adults.  In  the  act, 
the  man  gives  himself  to  God.  He  publicly  acknowl- 
edges that  he  owns  not  himself,  neither  by  nature  nor 
grace.  By  nature  he  belongs  evidently  to  his  Maker, 
by  reason  of  the  fact  that  the  thing  made  cannot  own 
itself;  while  by  grace  he  has  been  "bought  with  a 
price,"  and  belongs  to  God  by  the  right  of  purchase. 

I  have  now  announced  what  I  believe  to  be  the 
true  and  scriptural  principle  which  underlies  the  pa- 
rental relation.  Standing  upon  this  elevated  concep- 
tion of  it,  and  making  it  as  our  lookout,  the  whole 
field  of  duty  lies  stretching  wide  and  plain  before  us. 
I  will  now  remark,  by  way  of  application,  — 

In  the  first  place,  then,  this  view  of  the  parental 
relation  will  supply  you,  in  the  training  of  your  chil- 
dren, with  the  only  motive  which  is  in  harmony  with 
the  scriptural  injunction,  —  the  glory  of  God.  If  you 
look  upon  your  children  as  your  own,  you  will  edu- 
cate them  for  yourselves ;  your  motive  will  be  your 
own  glory,  happiness,  and  peace  :  or  you  will  edu- 
cate them  for  themselves,  that  they  may  be  honored, 
prosperous,  and  happy.  To  assist  you,  or  serve  them- 
selves ;    to   prepare   them   for   that   which,   by   the 


68  HOUSEHOLD  RELIGION;  OR, 

standard  of  the  world,  is  called  usefulness ;  to  fit 
them  to  fill  earthly  positions  of  trust, — this  will  be 
your  main  motive.  For  this  you  will  send  them  to 
college,  or  train  them  in  your  stores ;  while  in  all 
your  cares  and  plans  for  them,  in  all  your  hopes  and 
dreams,  a  regard  for  the  divine  glory  will  never  enter. 
I  know  not  how  many  of  you  have  been  doing  this ; 
but  I  warn  such  of  you  as  have  to  correct  your  mo- 
tives at  once.  If  you  have  usurped  God's  place  to- 
ward your  children,  God  may  leave  you  to  fill  it.  He 
may  say,  "  You  have  educated  your  boy  for  yourself: 
now  protect  him."  But  what  father  can  protect  his 
son  as  God  can  ?  If  your  toil  and  anxieties  for  your 
children  are  prompted  only  by  parental  affection, 
then  are  you  impelled  by  no  nobler  or  holier  motive 
than  are  the  animals  ;  for  verily  they  will  toil  and 
suffer,  yea,  and  die,  for  their  offspring.  Never  until 
parental  affections  are  sanctified,  never  until  all 
your  labors,  cares,  and  plans  shall  be  hallowed  by  a 
fervent  desire  to  train  them  so  that  they  may  glorify 
their  heavenly  Father,  will  you  lift  yourselves  to  the 
level  of  a  rational  and  Christian  motive. 

I  ask  you,  furthermore,  to  bear  in  mind  that  your 
children  are  immortal.  Their  wants  are  not  earthly 
wants.  Their  deepest  needs  are  not  of  this  life. 
This  they  will  not  at  first  realize.  This  you  must 
teach  them.  Tell  them,  then,  of  heaven.  Tell  them 
of  the  life  to  come.  Tell  them  of  eternity.  Be  sure, 
father,  to  tell  your  son  of  these  things.  Let  him 
early  understand  the  mighty  truth  of  his  immortality. 
Let  him  not  set  his  affections  on  things  of  this  world 


THE   RELIGIOUS  EDUCATION  OF   CHILDREN.      69 

because  he  knows  not  of  the  things  above  this  world. 
What !  shall  you,  a  teacher  appointed  of  God  to  teach 
these  things,  say  nothing  whatever  concerning  them  ? 
How  will  you  be  able  to  excuse  yourself  if  you 
shall  remain  dumb?  If  your  boy  shall  be  lost,  at 
whose  door  will  God  lay  the  responsibility,  —  at  yours, 
or  his  ?  or  will  you  both  be  alike  condemned  ?  I  say 
not  this  by  way  of  upbraiding  ;  I  say  it  not  in  arro- 
gance, or  in  assumption  of  authority  over  you :  I  say 
it  in  the  way  of  suggestion,  of  exhortation,  as  your 
pastor,  your  spiritual  teacher,  and  your  friend.  I 
speak  to  stir  up  your  minds  by  remembrance  ;  to  put 
you  face  to  face  with  the  gravest  responsibility  your 
lives  will  ever  know.  I  set  my  interrogation  as  a 
spur  to  the  sides  of  your  affection,  that  it  may  not  lag, 
but  hurry  on  toward  the  goal  of  its  noblest  hope; 
and  I  say,  Remember  the  immortality  of  your  children, 
if  you  hope  to  stand  acquitted  of  all  charge  before 
God  at  the  last  clay. 

The  great  danger  of  our  country  and  age  is  that 
children  are  being  educated  selfishly,  and  into  selfish 
principles.  Ours  is  a  materialistic  age  and  land. 
Even  duty  inclines  us  toward  earthiness.  In  a  new, 
undeveloped  country,  this  is  necessarily  so.  The 
forests  must  be  levelled,  railroads  built,  canals  digged, 
commerce  developed,  before  art  and  science  and 
ethical  culture  can  thrive.  The  progress  that  this 
country  has  made  in  the  last  thirty  years  in  material 
development  is  beyond  all  precedent.  You  may 
search  all  history  in  vain  for  a  parallel  case.  Never 
from  the  beginning  of  the  world  was  there  any  thing 


70  HOUSEHOLD  RELIGION;  OR, 

like  it.  Our  growth  has  been  like  that  of  the  tropics, 
—  rank  and  exuberant.  Ere  the  seed  is  decayed,  the 
tree  is  matured.  The  very  air  is  moist  and  heavy 
with  the  odors  yielded  upon  it  by  the  upspringing 
growth  around  us.  Life  in  America  is,  to  a  large  ex- 
tent, a  mad  chase  after  material  wealth.  Our  children 
are  fevered  at  birth.  The  ambition  of  the  father  to 
amass  and  hoard  finds  a  new  lease  of  life  in  the  son. 
As  a  generation,  we  are  "  of  the  earth,  earthy."  Mark 
you,  I  do  not  upbraid  you  for  this.  Every  force  and 
passion  has  its  place  in  the  plan  of  God.  He  utilizes 
even  our  excesses,  as  physicians  do  poisons.  Across 
the  mirk  of  our  sordidness  he  stretches  the  arch  of 
his  glory.  The  heavens  weep ;  but  he  flashes  the 
brightness  of  his  presence  through  their  falling  te"ars. 
But,  friends,  you  know  as  well  as  I,  many  of  you 
better,  —  for  you  read  the  warning  with  the  eyes  of  a 
deeper  knowledge  and  a  longer  experience, — you 
know,  I  say,  that  such  a  career  has  its  dangers.  Ex- 
cessive wealth  rapidly  gained  is  fearfully  attractive. 
The  children  worship  the  gods  that  the  fathers 
builded;  and  what  to  the  parents  was  only  the 
means  to  an  end,  becomes  to  their  descendants  the 
object  of  their  existence.  The  worst  possible  fortune 
that  can  happen  to  a  generation  is  to  live  the  first 
twenty  years  of  its  life  with  a  false  standard  before 
its  eyes.  That  young  man  who  is  educated  by  the 
example  of  his  father,  and  the  customs  of  the  com- 
munity in  which  he  lives,  to  believe  that  earthly  pros- 
perity is  the  best  reward  that  life  can  give  and  effort 
yield,  is  mortgaged  in  all  his  higher  faculties  to  fail- 


THE  RELIGIOUS   EDUCATION   OF   CHILDREN.      71 

ure,  to  start  with ;  and  especially  is  this  true  when 
earthly  prosperity  comes  to  him  in  its  lowest  and 
basest  form,  —  the  accumulation  of  money.  O 
father  !  if  you  can  teach  your  boy  nothing  nobler 
than  this,  if  you  can  lift  his  feet  to  no  higher  level, 
if  you  can  crimson  his  future  with  no  purer  hope, 
then  let  him  die  at  once.  If  this  is  to  be  the  end 
of  your  guardianship  over  hfm ;  if,  as  teacher  and 
guide,  you  can  serve  him  no  better  than  this,  —  then 
yield  him  back  to  God.  Let  him  return  unto  heaven 
at  least  with  his  mind  unperverted,  and  his  soul  un- 
stained. There,  as  the  ages  pass,  he  shall  learn  a 
higher  wisdom.  There,  in  the  light  of  the  glory  of 
the  Lord,  he  shall  live  a  life  worthy  of  his  opportuni- 
ties,* and  commensurate  with  his  powers.  For  what 
is  existence,  what  the  multiplication  of  days,  what 
the  swift  passing  of  years  replete  with  experience  of 
events,  —  what  are  these  but  a  curse  and  a  calamity, 
if  they  serve  but  to  divorce  the  }7oung  from  the  Au- 
thor of  their  being,  and  reduce  their  eternal  condition 
to  the  status  of  a  Dives  ? 

Listen  to  me,  now,  and  accept  what  I  say ;  for  it 
comes  in  truth  out  of  heaven  to  you  as  a  star  out  of 
the  sky.  Receive  it  as  it  falls  into  your  hearts,  lest 
the  heavens  withhold  their  favors,  and  send  no  more 
their  messages  of  brightness  to  your  souls. 

Teach  your  boy  otherwise.  Say  to  him,  "  My  son, 
I  am  not  educating  you  for  this  earth :  I  am  educating 
you  for  heaven.  I  am  not  showing  you  how  to  serve 
yourself:  I  am  showing  you  how  to  serve  God.  It 
will  not  delight  me  one  hundredth  part  so  much  to 


72  HOUSEHOLD    RELTGION;   OR, 

know  that  you  are  fitted  for  business  as  to  feel  that 
you  are  fitted  in  character  and  taste  for  heaven." 
Say  to  him,  "My  boy,  I  am. not  able  to  keep  you: 
God  alone  is  able  to  keep  you.  He  alone  gives  the 
breath  to  your  nostrils ;  he  alone  upholds  you  :  but 
for  him,  you  would,  even  while  I  am  talking  with 
you,  drop  dead.  Remember  that  you  are  not  mine  ; 
you  are  not  your  mother's :  you  are  God's.  He 
gave  you  life.  He  upholds  you  day  by  day  :  without 
him  you  could  do  nothing.  By  and  by,  your  stay 
here  will  end.  He  will  send  forth  his  messenger  to 
bring  you  home,  and  you  must  go.  Ah  !  see  to  it  that 
you  are  prepared  to  meet  him  in  that  hour."  Say 
this  to  your  son,  father;  say  it  in  so  many  words. 
Some  things  must  be  spoken  to  be  fully  understood. 
The  voice  adds  force  to  the  truth,  and  deepens  its 
impression.  Bear  testimony,  then,  for  God,  and  your 
children  will  remember  it  while  you  live  ;  and  when 
you  have  gone  from  sight,  being  gathered  to  your  re- 
ward, they  will  say,  "  Our  father  failed  not  in  his 
duty  toward  us,  but  taught  us  all  he  knew  of  wis- 
dom ;  "  and  they  will  rise  up  and  call  you  blessed. 

And  who  are  blessed  if  it  be  not  the  parents  of 
pious  children  ?  Who  are  miserable  if  it  be  not  the 
parents  of  the  ungodly  ?  Who  is  so  fortunate  as 
they  who  are  represented  by  intelligence  and  virtue 
after  they  are  gone  ?  —  who  so  unhappy  as  they 
whose  names  are  linked  with  ignorance  and  vice,  and 
perpetuated  only  in  connection  with  crime  ? 

My  friend,  is  your  boy  a  Christian  ?  If  not,  does 
the  fact  bring  an  impeachment  against  you  ?     Have 


THE  RELIGIOUS  EDUCATION  OF  CHILDREN.     73 

you  used  aright  the  office  and  prerogatives  of  parent- 
age ?  Is  he  living  for  eternity  ?  If  not,  is  it  through 
lack  of  instruction  on  your  part  ?  Is  he  of  the  num- 
ber of  those  who  find  their  delight  in  serving  the 
Lord  ?  If  not,  is  it  because  your  example  has  been 
to  him  as  a  stumbling-block  ?  Would  it  give  you  joy 
to  see  him  take  publicly  the  vows  of  God  upon  him  ? 
If  so,  have  you,  by  example,  supplication,  and  prayer, 
brought  the  needed  conviction  upon  his  mind  ?  Has 
religion  been  made  to  seem  an  unreal  and  empty  affair 
to  him  by  your  way  of  practising  it  ?  Has  your  in- 
sincerity made  him  a  sceptic  ?  Are  you  a  professor  ? 
If  not,  how  can  you  expect  your  child  to  be  ?  Ah 
me  !  how  inexorably  effects  are  linked  to  causes ! 
How  in  the  last  day  shall  it  be  seen  that  one  man  fell 
because  another  faltered  ;  the  wife  was  lost  because 
the  husband  hesitated  ;  the  children  perished  through 
the  backsliding  of  the  parents  ;  the  son  died  as  a  fool 
dieth,  because  the  father,  in  all  the  practices  of  his 
life,  said,  "  There  is  no  God  "  ! 

Blessed  are  the  childless,  if  they  live 'not  up  to  the 
level  of  Heaven's  requirement ;  blessed  the  man  who 
can  say,  "  My  sins  will  be  buried  with  me  ;  my  faults 
and  follies  will  reach  their  limit  in  my  grave ;  they 
shall  lie  down  with  me  in  death ;  they  shall  die  when 
I  die ;  the}^  shall  disappear  from  the  earth  when  I 
go  hence  ;  they  shall  be  no  more  forever,"  —  blessed, 
I  say,  is  such  a  one  beside  him  who  has  failed  to  ful- 
fil the  duties,  and  improve  the  opportunities,  of  par- 
entage ;  for  barrenness  is  better  than  imbittered  and 
perverted  fruitfulness. 


74  HOUSEHOLD   BELIGION;  OK, 

The  children  of  the  future  are  to  be  children  of 
temptation.  They  will  breathe  an  atmosphere  mor- 
ally miasmatic.  Their  fathers  took  the  vital  elements 
out  of  it,  and  left  it  tainted.  The  sources  whence 
you  derived  }rour  virtue  when  boys  are  closed  to-day. 
The  old  home-life,  with  its  crisp  atmosphere  of  puri- 
tan government,  its  habits  of  honest  and  honorable 
industry,  its  conservative  customs,  and  its  simple, 
reverent  faith  in  God,  all  centred  around  one  spot, 
all  hallowing  one  locality,  —  these  are  passed  away. 
Never  again  will  New  England  know  them.  Never 
again  will  harvests  ripen  in  that  upland  soil.  Our 
children  are  nursed  on  the  level  of  swamps  ;  and  the 
whir  of  factory-wheels,  and  the  roar  of  car  and  cart, 
drown  the  mother's  hymn.  The  oaken  cradles  that 
rocked  you  into  vigor  are  too  rough  for  the  effemi- 
nacy of  this  age  ;  and  the  old  songs,  on  the  soft,  mov- 
ing melody  of  which  our  infant  minds  floated  into  a 
world  as  pure  as  the  strain  that  wafted  us,  live  only 
in  tradition.  A  boyhood  passed  in  a  city  is  a  far  dif- 
ferent thing  than  one  passed  in  a  country.  Its  sights 
and  sounds  and  dirt  bring  forward  what  should  .be 
repressed.  It  forces  nature,  and  at  a  time,  too,  when 
the  physical  and  the  sensuous  preponderate  in  the 
nature.  It  begets  a  license  of  thought  and  conduct 
before  the  judgment  is  sufficiently  matured  to  check 
it.  It  kindles  the  imagination  when  it  should  be  qui- 
escent, or  active  only  within  certain  limits  and  in  pure 
directions.  It  educates  one  into  necessities  faster 
than  individual  effort  can  earn  the  means  of  supply- 
ing them  ;  and  fosters  that  worst  of  all  habits  to  a 


THE  RELIGIOUS  EDUCATION  OF  CHILDREN.      75 

young  man,  —  eating  and  wearing  and  spending  what 
he  has  not  earned.  And,  lastly,  it  holds  up  a  wrong 
standard  of  success  before  his  eyes,  and  makes  ambi- 
tion, which  God  intended  as  a  blessing,  a  curse,  in 
that  it  perverts  and  misdirects  the  going-forth  of  its 
activities.  I  do  not  say,  parents,  that  these  evil  ten- 
dencies cannot  be  lessened  or  wholly  counterbalanced; 
but  I  do  say  that  they  call  for  the  utmost  effort  on 
your  part,  and  make  anxiety  to  be  reasonable.  A 
little  carelessness,  a  few  years  of  indifference,  a  letting- 
down  of  watchfulness,  and  evil  examples  and  sur- 
roundings will  have  done  their  work,  and  the  charac- 
ters of  your  children  will  be  irretrievably  weakened 
or  ruined.  I  do  not  say  that  they  will  not  achieve 
what  the  world  calls  success  ;  although  even  this  will 
be  hazarded :  but  I  do  say  that  they  will  never  lead 
that  life  of  faith  and  holiness  which  springeth  there- 
from, that  can  alone  commend  them  in  their  charac- 
ter and  conduct  to  the  favor  of  Almighty  God.  They 
will  live  and  labor  as  those  whose  lives  end  at  the 
grave  ;  their  treasures  will  be  of  this  earth  ;  they 
will  labor  only  for  the  meat  that  perisheth  ;  the  line 
of  pure  selfishness  will  circumscribe  their  lives ;  and' 
the  shame  and  confusion  of  the  fool,  and  the  guilt  of 
the  unfaithful,  will  cover  them  when  they  appear  be- 
fore God. 

I  believe,  that  to  every  thoughtful,  every  sensitive 
mind,  the  greatest  mystery  and  the  most  solemn  event 
of  life  is  the  act  of  birth.  The  loveliest  relationship 
known  to  mortals,  spanning  the  darkest  life  like  an 
arch  of  light,  which  rests  its  either  base  on  blocks  of 


76  HOUSEHOLD   RELIGION;  OR, 

jasper,  is  the  relationship  between  parent  and  child. 
The  bond  that  is  born  of  begetting  and  being  begot- 
ten is  the  holiest  known  to  men,  and  the  birth  of  a 
child  the  sweetest  and  most  solemn  event  that  can 
possibly  transpire.  The  body  that  is  not  sanctified 
by  the  transmission  of  such  a  divine  communication 
is  indeed  dead  to  all  holy  impulse.  To  be  permitted 
by  the  Divine  Power  to  call  a  soul  from  nothingness  ; 
to  make  inanity  intelligent ;  to  send  out  into  the  uni- 
verse from  the  dumb  lips  of  silence,  yea,  from  that 
which  never  spoke,  and  knows  no  speech,  a  living 
note  ;  a  note  that  cannot  die ;  which  will  move  on, 
unchecked  by  counter-waves  of  sound,  ever  keeping, 
whether  amid  the  torrent  and  tempests  of  discord  or 
the  mingling  of  all  melodies,  the  clear-cut  outline  of 
its  own  individuality ;  a  note  that  will  never  reach 
its  fullest  expression,  never  touch  a  limit  and  recoil 
upon  itself;  that  will  move  on  and  on,  filling  one 
space  only  to  enter  another  and  a  larger,  —  this  is 
wonderful !  Before  this  thought  I  veil  my  face  as  in 
the  presence  of  too  great  a  light.  But  what  should 
be  our  feelings  when  we  reflect  that  God  grants  us 
not  only  to  send  forth  such  a  note,  but  to  decide  what 
the  character  of  it  shall  be  ?  You,  parents,  are  per- 
mitted to  say  whether  the  lives  of  your  children  shall 
be  the  prolongation  of  discord,  or  the  going-forth  of 
a  sweet  and  perpetual  hymn  ;  a  distinct  addition  to 
that  good  which  now  is,  and  is  forever,  pleasing  be- 
fore God.  I  fear,  friends,  that  you  have  all  been  too 
little  sanctified  in  }^our  loves,  too  earthy  in  your  act 
of  parentage,    too  selfish  in  your  appropriation  of 


THE   RELIGIOUS   EDUCATION   OF   CHILDREN.      77 

God's  own,  to  have  added  as  you  might  to  the  uni- 
versal harmony. 

And  now  I  say  to  all  of  you  who  are  under  my 
pastoral  charge,  and  to  yon  also  who  are  with  us  to- 
day, as  brought  together  to  this  assembly  by  a  direct- 
ing Providence,  —  and  I  say  it  not  as  declaring  an  un- 
known truth,  but  as  re-affirming  one  already  known 
to  you,  —  The  best,  the  only  adequate  protection  for 
your  children  against  the  manifold  temptations  to 
which  they  are  and  will  be  exposed  is  to  be  found  in 
personal  religion.  In  bringing  them  to  God  in  con- 
version lies  your  only  hope.  If  hitherto  you  have 
neglected  this  first  and  greatest  duty  of  parentage, 
start  out  to-day  upon  its  perfect  performance.  I  ap- 
peal to  you  as  their  natural  guardians  and  divinely- 
appointed  guides.  I  appeal  to  you  as  especially  fa- 
vored in  circumstance  and  position.  The  power  of  a 
father's  counsel,  —  who  shall  estimate  it?  The  ten- 
der, lasting,  sin-conquering  influence  of  a  mother's 
prayer,  —  who  can  describe  it  ?  Your  children  them- 
selves look  to  you  for  advice  and  instruction  touching 
the  way  they  should  live.  Do  you  say  they  have  never 
asked  for  it  ?  Do  you  expect,  I  respond,  that  they  will 
take  the  initiative  ?  Is  duty  to  remain  undone,  until,  by 
forwardness,  they  reverse  the  order  of  nature  ?  Is 
the  boy  to  teach  the  sire  the  fulfilment  of  obligation  ? 
Is  the  daughter  to  interpret  the  providences  of  God 
to  the  mother?  Is  ignorance  to  enlighten  knowl- 
edge? Must  weakness  brace  the  loins  of  strength 
with  a  girdle  ?  Must  the  unrenewed  heart  show  a 
regenerated  nature  how  to  be  faithful  ?     What  a  con- 


78  HOUSEHOLD   RELIGION;   OR, 

dition  of  things  is  this  in  a  Christian  family,  when 
the  order  of  nature  and  grace  both  is  reversed,  and 
that  which  should  be  first  is  last,  and  the  last 
first! 

Oh  that  my  voice  might  penetrate  to  every  family 
in  this  city,  and  give  expression  to  the  needed  rebuke, 
the  needed  encouragement,  and  the  needed  warning  ! 
Oh  that  this  interrogation,  as  with  a  force  given  it 
from  the  lips  of  God,  might  cleave  the  intervening 
distance,  and  stir  the  air  of  every  chamber  where 
parents  will  sleep  to-night,  and  they  might  hear  a 
voice  amid  the  darkness,  saying  to  their  startled  and 
awe-struck  souls,  "  Are  you  doing  your  duty  to  your 
children  ?  "  O  parents !  you  who  sleep  so  soundly 
at  night,  while  Death,  like  a  burglar,  stalks  around 
your  dwelling,  you  who  deem  your  duty  done  in  the 
daily  utterance  of  a  formal  prayer  at  the  family-altar, 
what  will  become  of  your  children  when  they  die  ? 
Will  your  love  save  them  ?  Will  your  pride  at  their 
accomplishments  avail  ?  Will  the  sharp  regret,  the 
agony  of  remorse,  at  your  unfaithfulness,  call  back  the 
departed  life  when  the  body  of  your  child  lies  in  its 
coffin  ?  I  marvel  that  a  Christian  home  can  be  happy 
while  there  is  an  impenitent  child  in  it. 

Bear  with  me  if  I  press  you.  If  your  child  is  not 
converted  in  your  household,  in  what  other  household 
may  he  ever  be  converted  ?  If  he  grows  hard  under 
your  care,  at  whose  touch  shall  he  soften  ?  If  you, 
O  mother  !  —  that  dearest  word  this  side  of  heaven,  and 
whether  heaven  shall  reveal  a  dearer  I  know  not,  — if 
you  cannot  win  him  to  reason  and  holiness,  who  can  ? 


THE   RELIGIOUS   EDUCATION   OF   CHILDREN.      79 

After  such  a  failure,  who  may  ever  have  the  courage 
to  renew  the  attempt? 

Alas  !  my  friends,  I  fear  that  some  of  you  who  are 
parents  are  not  Christians  yourselves.  Your  children 
are  impenitent;  and  therein  do  they  follow  your  exam- 
ple. Their  lives' are  no  mors  faulty  than  the  stan- 
dard that  you  put  before  them.  Their  very  love  for 
you,  their  very  confidence  in  you,  heave  up  obstacles 
in  the  path  of  their  conversion.  You  stand  between 
them  and  their  God.  Their  unbelief  is  rooted  in  your 
example.  Do  you  remember  the  words  of  Scripture  ? 
"  For  it  must  needs  be  that  offences  come  ;  but  woe 
unto  him  by  whom  the  offence  cometh !  "  I  call  upon 
you,  —  and  I  speak  as  one  appointed  of  God  to  say  it 
to  you,  — I  call  upon  you,  as  you  love  your  child,  as 
you  would  have  it  live  in  virtue  and  die  in  peace,  as 
you  would  not  neutralize  the  means  of  grace  merci- 
fully provided  for  its  salvation,  to  no  longer  stand  in 
the  way  of  its  conversion.  Repent  and  believe  your- 
self, to  the  end,  if  for  no  higher  reason,  that  your  child 
may  repent  and  believe  also.  Is  this  not  motive 
enough  ?  What  other  appeal  might  come  with  such 
force  to  a  father's  heart  ?  I  make  no  other.  My 
plea  shall  rest  here.  I  lay  it  on  jonr  conscience.  I 
bolt  it  within  the  chamber  of  }^our  memory.  May  it 
lie  forever  at  the  door  of  the  one  !  may  it  never  de- 
part from  the  presence  of  the  other  !  I  express  it  in 
words  that  the  sound  of  it  may  haunt  you  as  love 
haunts  the  steps  of  the  insane,  as  fear  the  presence 
of  the  unjust,  4*  Repent  and  believe  yourself,  that  your 
child  may  repent  and  believe" 


80  HOUSEHOLD  RELIGION. 

Must  my  words  be  in  vain  ?  Shall  the  days  pass, 
the  sun  rise  and  set,  the  clouds  yield  their  moisture, 
the  laborer  fail  not,  and  yet  no  harvest  appear  ?  Is 
any  one  quickened  ?  is  any  one  convicted  of  duty  ? 
Have  I  builded  a  family-altar  to-day  ?  Have  I  re- 
kindled the  flame  on  one  whose  fire's  had  gone  out  ? 
Have  I  suggested  a  higher  type  of  love  than  the 
earthly  ?  Will  your  treatment  of  your  children  be 
more  tender,  more  loving,  more  reverent,  now  that 
you  have  been  reminded  whose  they  are  ?  If  so,  then 
rejoice  with  me,  friends,  as  if  I  had  been  made  rich  ; 
for  my  hope  is  met,  and  my  prayer  answered. 

"  But  shall  I  love  my  child  less  ?  "  I  hear  some  one 
inquire.  Less  ?  No :  more,  —  a  thousand-fold  more. 
Heretofore  you  have  loved  it  for  its  own  sake  :  hence- 
forth love  it  for  the  Father's  sake ;  for  the  sake  of 
God ;  for  the  sake  of  "  Him  whom  your  soul  loveth." 
Up  to  this  you  have  loved  it  as  a  mother  loves  : 
love  it  now  as  Christ  loves.  Until  to-day,  you  loved 
it  for  time :  love  it  now  for  eternity.  Can  you  lift 
yourself  to  this  level  ?  Can  you  make  the  mortal 
seem  immortal  ?  Will  the  face  of  your  child  appear 
to  you,  as  you  go  to  your  homes  this  noon,  like  the 
face  of  an  angel  ?  If  so,  pray  for  no  greater  blessing 
than  shall  come  to  you :  for  at  your  door  shall  stand 
the  form  of  a  man,  }^et  it  will  not  be  man's  ;  and  it 
shall  knock,  and  you  shall  open  to  it ;  and,  when  your 
door  is  open  in  welcome,  it  shall  speak,  and  say, 
"  Peace  be  to  this  house  ;  "  and  the  peace  of  God,  that 
passeth  all  understanding,  shall  abide  on  •  you  and 
yours  forever. 


SABBATH  MORNTNG,  APRIL  2,  1871. 


SERMON. 


SUBJECT. -POSITIVENESS   OF  BELIEF:    ITS   NEtD  AND   EFFICIENCY. 

"That  we  be  no  more  children,  tossed  to  and  fro,  and  carried 
about  with  every  wind  of  doctrine,  by  the  sleight  of  men, 
and  cunning  craftiness,  whereby  they  ld3  in  wait  to  de- 
CEIVE." —  Ephes.  iv.  14. 

MANY  inquiries  have  been  addressed  to  me  late- 
ly, especially  from  those  in  and  beyond  my 
own  congregation  who  have  recently  been  converted, 
and  who  from-this  fact  are  now  called  upon  to  con- 
sider many  matters  of  duty  upon  which  they  have 
never  reflected,  concerning  the  necessity  of  a  fixed 
and  definite  belief.  Some  are  troubled  in  their  minds 
touching  the  matter  of  creeds  and  verbally-expressed 
formulas  of  faith ;  and  the  passage  that  I  recited  as 
my  text  has  been  suggested  as  one  upon  which  they 
desire  me  to  base  a  discourse.  The  request  being 
reasonable,  and  one  perfectly  natural  for  people  in 
their  position  to  make,  I  comply. 

I  do  this  the  more  readily,  friends,  because  you 
who  are  acquainted  with  me  know  that  I  do  not  wor- 
ship formulas  nor  bow  down  to  creeds.     I  am  not 

4  •  81 


82  POSITIVENESS   OF  BELIEF: 

conscious  that  I  was  ever  impelled  by  the  love  of  an- 
tiquity. Mildew  and  mould  are  not  to  me  objects  of 
reverence.  I  care  no  more  for  a-  piece  of  parchment 
inscribed  in  the  third  century  than  for  a  pamphlet 
bearing  the  impress  of  the  Riverside  press.  "  The 
Mayflower,"  in  itself  considered,  is  no  more  to  me  than 
any  respectable-looking  craft  in  your  harbor  to-day. 
Is  it  needed?  Does  it  bring  men  nearer  to  God? 
Does  it  enlarge  the  mind  ?  Does  it  stir  the  best  sym- 
pathies of  the  heart  ?  These  are  the  questions  I  put 
to  my  judgment  concerning  any  matter  brought  for 
me  to  consider.  These  compose  the  real  touchstone 
of  value.  Every  generation  has  to  sit  in  judgment 
on  its  own  needs.  A  change  in  condition  and  circum- 
stance often,  as  you  know,  begets  a  change  in  duty ; 
and  what  was  wise  in  the  father  becomes  folly  in  the 
conduct  of  the  son.  Every  age  has  to  debate  and  de- 
cide what  is  right  and  expedient  for  itself. 

I  have  often  said  to  you,  that  I  do  not  care  a  rush 
for  a  belief  or  a  doctrine  that  does  not  better  a  man, 
and  quicken  him  to  Christ-like  labor  ;  and  I  repeat  it, 
hoping  by  the  repetition  to  make  it  more  emphatic, 
and  embed  it  more  deeply  in  your  memories.  And 
yet  I  believe  in  beliefs,  and  I  believe  in  creeds, — 
written  formulas,  express  statements  of  faith.  They 
are,  in  my  opinion,  needed  and  helpful.  They 
strengthen  and  steady  the  churches.  They  strength- 
en the  individual  disciple.  They  hold  an  important 
position  among  the  forces  that  are  evangelizing  the 
world.  And  I  wish  this  morning  to  suggest  to  you 
certain  considerations  that  may  cause  this  to  appear 
manifest  to  you. 


ITS  NEED  AND  EFFICIENCY.  83 

One  reason,  then,  why  a  positive  expression  of  faith 
is  valuable  to  a  man,  is  because  it  compels  him  to 
take  a  position.  It  centralizes  his  powers,  and  brings 
his  energies  to  a  focus.  It  quickens  thought,  because 
it  opens  him  up  to  attack.  It  is  only  when  a  man's 
feet  touch  the  bottom  that  he  begins  to  feel  the 
pressure  of  the  current,  and  braces  himself  to  resist 
it.  In  morals,  no  believer  should  drift.  Religion,  in 
its  doctrinal  teachings,  is  too  grave  a  matter  for  one 
to  have  no  conviction  upon.  It  is  only  when  you 
have  clearly  decided  in  your  own  mind  what  to  think 
.of  Christ,  where  to  locate  him  in  the  grades  of 
essence  and  being,  reached  a  positive  and  heartfelt 
conviction  touching  his  nature  and  attributes,  that 
you  begin  to  know  what  and  how  much  he  is  to  your 
soul,  or  where  you  stand  in  your  relations  to  him. 

Pass,  now,  from  yourself  to  others,  and  you  find 
that  the  birth  of  positive  conceptions  in  your  own 
mind  dates  the  birth  of  your  influence  for  good  over 
others.  You  must  get  a  foothold  somewhere  before 
you  can  ever  lift  men.  Before  you  can  teach  the  ig- 
norant, you  must  have  instructed  your  own  mind. 
The  very  first  thing  that  a  seeker  after  truth  desires 
to  know  is,  what  you  have  discovered  to  be  true.  The 
foundations  of  his  faith  are  to  be  hewn  from  the 
same  quarry  from  which  you  blasted  yours.  It  is  the 
positive  element  in  your  convictions  of  duty  which 
charms  and  impresses  him. 

The  positiveness  of  conviction  also  gauges  the  in- 
fluence of  an  organization.  No  church  can  live  on 
negation.     A  think-as-you-please  church  is  not  a  tern- 


84  POSITIVENESS   OF  BELIEF: 

pie :  it  is  a  heap,  an  accumulation  of  individual 
atoms,  which  the  veriest  accident  will  send  flying  in 
all  directions.  There  is  no  adhesive  power  in  such 
an  organization.  It  lives  as  long  as  one  man  lives  ; 
it  lives  as  long  as  a  circle  or  caste  lives ;  then  dies. 
That  community  of  conviction  and  feeling  which 
might  have  magnetized  it,  and  caused  every  part  to 
adhere  to  its  neighbor,  is  wanting ;  and  no  solid, 
permanent  structure  is  possible.  You  must  have  a 
central  rallying  point  and  cry,  a  certain  number  of 
principles  held  in  common  and  loved  in  common,  or 
ever  an  organization  can  perpetuate  itself.  A  belief 
is,  therefore,  essential  to  the  very  existence  and  per- 
petuity of  the  Church.  A  declaration  of  principles 
which  outlives  the  teachers,  which  outlives  the  taught, 
gathering  sanctity  as  its  truth  is  the  more  fully  per- 
ceived, becomes  so  dear,  that  men  are  willing,  at  last, 
to  die  for  it. 

If  you  look  carefully  into  this  matter,  you  will  find 
that  positiveness  of  belief  is  not  something  foisted 
on  to,  but  a  natural  outgrowth  of,  the  human  mind. 
With  here  and  there  an  exception,  man  is  eminently 
a  creature  of  belief.  He  conceives  of  things  sharply, 
and  holds  on  to  them  tenaciously.  He  is  not  content 
with  vagueness :  uncertainty  is  torment ;  mystery 
piques  him.  He  craves  knowledge,  data  sure  and 
satisfactory.  You  see  this  characteristic  cropping  out 
everywhere  in  history.  Martyrs  are  not  an  abnormal 
outgrowth.  It  is  not  singular  that  man,  made  as  he 
is,  should  die  for  his  faith :  it  would  be  singular  if 
he  did  not.     Man  instinctively  honors  his  own  intel- 


ITS   NEED  AND   EFFICIENCY.  85 

lect ;  trusts  in  its  conclusions  ;  yea,  trusts  in  them  so 
entirely,  that  he  is  willing  to  die  for  them.     There  is 
not  a  drop  in  all  that  red  sea  which  the  blood  of 
those  who  died  for  liberty  and  God  filled,  but  that 
gives  the  lie  to  those  who  scout  at  creeds  and  laugh 
at  those  who  -give  adherence  to  formulas  of  faith. 
The  fact  is,  no  man  has  used  his  intellect  rightly  un- 
less he  has  reached  certain  conclusions  which  he  is 
willing  to  die  for.     A  man  who  is  tossed  about  by 
every  wind  of  doctrine  ;  who  is  this  to-day,  and  that 
to-morrow,  and  nothing  next  day ;  who  is  unsettled 
on  every  vital  point  of  religion ;  who  looks  with  equal 
favor  on  opposite  theories  of  life ;   who,  out  of  the 
vast  bulk  of  material  which  God  has  provided  him  in 
nature* and  revelation,  can  construct  no  positive  sys- 
tem of  belief, — is  an  unnatural  production  himself. 
Such  a  person  is  either  an  intentional  sceptic,  or  the 
resultant  of  peculiar  and  exceptional  combinations  in 
temperament  and  circumstances.      Every  transition 
period  is  filled  with  such  men.    They  are  the  product 
and  representatives  of  mental  confusion,  and  not  of 
knowledge.     This  city  is  full  of  such  people.     They 
are  the  bubbles  that  the  agitation  of  the  waters  here 
fifty  years  ago  occasioned.     They  do  not  represent 
the  natural  and  normal  posture  of  the  human  mind 
toward  God.      They  represent  a  revolution,  and  a 
revolution  not  altogether  honorable.     They  represent 
a  philosophy,  which,  like  a  bird  with  one  wing,  is  un- 
able to  mount  to  an  altitude  whence  a  correct  view 
can  be  had  of  what  it  seeks  to  know.    They  represent 
theological  nightmare  and  fever. 


8(3  POSITIVENESS   OF  BELIEF: 

I  need  not  analyze  the  past  history  of  the  Common 
wealth,  theologically  considered.  Some  of  you  know 
it  from  observation  and  personal  participation,  all  of 
you  from  tradition.  You  know  the  position  that  Bos- 
ton took  when  it  seceded  from  the  ancestral  faith.  It 
virtually  said,  "  We  are  tired  of  carrying  anchors  on 
our  ships :  ships  were  made  to  sail,  not  to  rest  forever, 
lashed  to  the  same  old  pier.  Come,  let  us  throw  the 
cumbrous  things  overboard."  I  will  not  say  but  that 
the  fathers  did  carry  a  little  too  much  old  iron  on 
their  decks  ;  that  they  did  not  ballast  a  little  too 
deeply  for  swift  sailing  ;  that  lighter  ships  than  they 
builded  out  of  the  live-oak  of  their  times  were  not 
at  last  needed  for  the  rapid  commerce  of  ideas  among 
men,  and  the  promulgation  of  the  humanities.  I 
would  not  fight  with  any  over  this,  but  grant  it.  But 
these  would-be  reformers  not  only  threw  the  anchors 
overboard,  but  they  went  to  work  and  tore  out  many 
of  the  heaviest  timbers,  and  started  many  of  the  bolts 
that  the  fathers  used  so  plentifully  in  the  frame  ;  and 
the  work  of  disintegration  —  some  call  it  progress  — 
has  gone  on,  until  some  of  their  churches  can  scarcely 
be  held  together.  They  lack  the  cohesion  which  is 
found  alone  in  a  positive  belief.  Where  there  is 
nothing  to  believe,  there  is  nothing  into  which  to 
educate  a  congregation.  Similarity  of  views,  and  the 
quick  sympathy  that  springs  therefrom,  are  impossi- 
ble. There  is  no  evangelizing  power  in  such  a  church. 
A  gospel  of  negation,  of  doubt,  of  denial,  has  not  in 
it  a  single  element  wherewith  to  win  converts,  save 
the  love  of  destructiveness ;  and  this  sentiment  is  not 


ITS   NEED  AND   EFFICIENCY.  87 

ab  home  in  this  age.  The  age  is  a  positive  one.  It  is 
a  radical,  outspoken  age.  It  is  not  startled  at  down- 
right assertion.  It  is  a  constructive  age,  and  clamors 
for  granite, — something  to  perforate  and  chisel  and 
put  together.  You  might  as  reasonably  expect  a  poli- 
tical party  in  this  country  to  live  and  thrive  without 
a  platform,  as  a  church  without  a  creed.  A  church, 
like  a  government,  must  have  a  declaration  of  prin- 
ciples. A  statement  of  its  convictions,  its  object,  its 
articles  of  faith,  is  demanded  by  the  public  at  large. 
Thoughtful  minds  desire  something  to  study,  to  in- 
vestigate, to  accept  or  reject :  they  demand  it  as  a 
right,  and  will  have  it. 

This  is  especially  true,  I  maintain,  in  the  matter  of 
religion.  Religion  deals  with  the  gravest  problems 
of  human  existence  and  human  destiny.  It  is  based 
upon  a  positive  revelation  of  God's  will  to  men.  It 
attempts  to  answer  the  gravest  questions  man  ever 
put  to  his  own  soul.  The  Bible,  of  all  books,  is  the 
most  positive.  Heaven  and  hell  are  positive  concep- 
tions. Joy  and  sorrow  are  positive  ideas.  Christ 
dealt  largely,  throughout  all  his  teaching,  in  positive 
assertions :  "  He  who  believeth  on  me  shall  be  saved ; 
he  who  believeth  not  shall  be  damned."  Any  Bible 
church  must  be  a  church  of  a  bold  and  unmistakable 
declaration  of  its  views  ;  any  gospel  preacher,  a  man 
of  pronounced  opinions,  not  in  respect  to  human 
duties  alone,  but  also  in  respect  to  divine  govern- 
ment. He  must  deliver  a  message  which  has  been 
given  him  to  deliver,  whether  men  will  hear  or  for- 
bear.    He  has  no  option  in  the  matter.     How  to  say 


88  POSITIVENESS  OF  BELIEF: 

it  is  for  him  to  decide ;  but  what  to  say  is  not  left 
to  his  knowledge  or  his  taste.  The  strength  of  his 
position  consists  in  the  fact  that  he  preaches  a  mys- 
tery, —  the  mystery  of  God  and  of  godliness  ;  a  mys- 
tery beyond  man's  conception ;  of  guilt  visited  upon 
the  guiltless ;  a  mystery  which  angels  desire  to  look 
into,  and  cannot.  Consider  it  from  any  point  of  view, 
and  the  same  conclusion  is  reached.  His  duty  is  to 
persuade ;  but  there  can  be  no  persuasion  unless  it  be 
from  something  positive  to  something  equally  posi- 
tive. His  -office  is  to  convict :  but  conviction  does 
not  wait  on  speculation ;  it  is  not  born  of  doubt,  of 
denial,  of  a  mere  negative  philosophy.  To  persuade 
a  man  from  crossing  the  rapids,  you  must  picture  the 
horror  of  the  cataract.  A  Niagara  must  exist  as  the 
basis  of  your  anxiety  and  his  peril.  The  possibility 
of  death  must  be  there,  or  your  arguments  are  power- 
less, and  your  fear  puerile. 

It  is  a  matter  of  astonishment  to  me  that  men  can 
think  that  a  Bible  church  can  exist  without  a  creed,  a 
fixed  system  of  belief.  That  creed  may  not  be  writ- 
ten ;  it  may  not  be  expressed  in  black  and  white  ;  if 
written,  it  may  be  modest  and  cautious  in  its  phrase- 
ology :  but  it  must  needs  be  known  and  taught.  The 
Bible  enjoins  that  a  man  shall  be  able  to  give  a  rea- 
son for  the  faith  which  is  in  him  ;  but  who  can  give  a 
reason  for  what  he  does  not  have  ?  The  thing  is  im- 
possible ;  and  the  position  which  some  churches  take 
on  the  matter  is  simply  anti-biblical  and  anti-c'ommon- 
sense.  Every  church  should  say  what  it  thinks  of 
Christ ;   say  it  implicitly ;  say  it  so  that  the.  public 


ITS   NEED   AND   EFFICIENCY.  89 

can  get  at  its  meaning,  and  be  able  to  intelligently 
accept  or  intelligently  reject  its  position.  This  church 
owes  it  to  every  one  of  you  who  worship  here,  owes 
it  to  the  city  of  which  it  is  a  part,  owes  it  to  God 
and  to  the  advancement  of  correct  knowledge  on  the 
most  important  of  all  questions,  to  distinctly  avow 
its  belief;  if  for  no  other  reason  than  that  its  errors 
may  be  detected,  and  its  power  as  an  example  felt. 
And  I  believe  that  men  of  all  opinions  here  Avill  at 
last  come  to  accept  this  view  as  the  correct  one,  and 
insist  on  its  adoption. 

The  position  of  reticence  and  negation,  which  is 
held  to  and  held  up  by  some  as  the  only  liberal 
position,  and  the  only  one  tenable  by  a  progressive 
thinker,  has  this,  furthermore,  to  be  urged  against  it : 
it  tends  to  bring  the  Bible  into  disrepute,  lessen  its 
authority  upon  the  masses,  and  loosen  all  the  bands 
with  which  it  supports  and  braces  the  public  con- 
science. The  Bible  is  a  book  of  assertions.  It  is 
not  a  book  of  suggestion,  but  of  command.  It 
speaks  from  the  high  level  of  superior  wisdom  and 
authority.  In  it  is  published  a  system  of  moral  gov- 
ernment, the  strictness  of  which  is  emphasized  by 
rewards  and  punishment.  It  does  not  come  to  man 
and  say,  "  Examine  me :  "  it  says,  "  Obey  me."  It 
looks  you  squarely  in  the  face,  and  says,  "  Dost  thou 
believe  ?  Hast  thou  faith  ?  "  There  is  only  one  way 
in  which  to  answer  such  authoritativeness,  such 
directness  of  interrogation.  It  is  with  yes  or  no. 
God  will  not  be  mocked  with  evasion,  and  sly  defini- 
tion, and  double-meaning  phraseology ;   nor  will  he 


90  POSITIVENESS   OF   BELIEF: 

endure  a  cunning  reticence.  He  makes  confession  of 
our  dependence  on  him  obligatory  ;  and  the  confession 
must  be  full  and  definite.  Nor  will  the  plea  of  igno- 
rance avail.  The  path  to  all  needed  knowledge  is  so 
plain,  that  the  wayfaring  man,  though  a  fool,  need  not 
err  therein. 

Now,  friends,  this  can  be  truly  said  concerning  the 
orthodox  churches,  —  they  are  frank  and  implicit  in 
the  confession  of  their  faith.  They  deal  honestly  with 
the  public.  They  secure  no  attendance  by  accommo- 
dating men's  crotchets.  They  bid  for  no  patronage 
by  their  silence.  They  declare  doctrines  which  are 
harsh  and  hard  to  the  natural  man.  Their  preachers 
preach  a  gospel  as  it  has  been  delivered  to  them  in  the 
Bible,  and  not  as  it  has  been  manufactured  for  them 
in  Boston.  We  tell  you  of  a  God-Man,  —  God  in  the 
flesh,  —  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  who  died  for  your  sins ;  and 
the  salvation  we  proclaim,  so  far  as  it  has  an  earthly 
locality,  comes  out  of  Calvary,  and  not  out  of  Music 
Hall.  I  know  of  what  the  American  people  are  made  ; 
and  I  know,  that,  upon  reflection,  they  can  but  admire 
this  frankness.  You  know  what  the  history  of  this 
church  has  been.  I  instance  it  simply  as  ah  illustra- 
tion. Its  foundations  were  laid  when  the  world  of 
theological  thought  rocked  as  with  the  throes  of  an 
earthquake.  It  was  built  in  open  and  confessed  an- 
tagonism to  prevailing  opinion.  Its  walls  were  pushed 
up  in  the  very  teeth  of  the  whirlwind  of  abuse  which 
swept  and  eddied  round  it.  It  was  cursed  and  spat 
upon.  Volleys  of  argument  were  delivered  at  it.  The 
keenest  shafts  of  satire  smote  against  it.     The  cul- 


ITS  NEED  AND  EFFICIENCY.  91 

fcure  and  wit  of  the  city  made  it  their  target.  Its 
pastor  Avas  maligned,  and  its  members  pronounced 
clowns  and  bigots.  But  now  mark  the  result.  Did 
it  flinch  ?  Did  it  modify  one  of  its  offensive  doctrines  ? 
Did  it  shade  down  a  single  formula  ?  Did  it  pacify 
the  public  censure  by  silence  ?  No  !  It  wrote  a  con- 
fession of  faith  strong  as  the  Westminster  Catechism 
itself,  and  nailed  it  to  its  front-doors,  and  said  to  wit 
and  wag,  priest  and  savan,  "  That  is  our  belief,  and 
we  are  not  ashamed  of  it."  It  fought  its  fight  of 
faith  under  the  banner  of  the  fathers  whose  piety 
made  New  England  what  it  is,  —  that  banner  which 
is  over  us  to-day,  and  which,  I  trust,  will  fly  here  for- 
ever to  the  latest  generation  ;  and  the  motto  on  that 
banner  was,  and  to-day  is,  "  Not  by  works  of  right- 
eousness which  we  have  done,  but  according  to  His 
mercy,  he  saved  us,  by  the  washing  of  regeneration, 
and  renewing  of  the  Holy  Ghost." 

Now,  in  taking  this  position,  this  church,  I  claim, 
did  two  things :  first,  it  honored  the  Bible  ;  and,  sec- 
ondly, it  acted  fairly  with  the  public.  If  wrong  in  its 
position,  the  wrong  was  more  easily  detected,  and 
hence  less  hurtful,  because  of  the  frankness  of  the 
avowal.  If  right,  it  was  the  more  readily  perceived, 
and  hence  more  powerful  for  good. 

I  know  full  well  that  the  charge  of  bigotry  is  often 
brought  against  the  orthodox  churches  on  account  of 
their  creeds.  This  has  been  the  great  arsenal  from 
which  the  Joves  of  satire  have  invariably  stolen  their 
thunderbolts.  The  bolt  has  often  been  too  heavy  for 
them  to  huil,  and  more  than  once  has  exploded  in 
their  own  hands  as  they  struggled  to  lift  it. 


92  POSITIVENESS    OF   BELIEF: 

Now,  I  do  not  doubt,  that,  in  the  orthodox  churches, 
narrow-minded  men  can  be  found.  Indeed,  I  think 
I  have  seen  some  myself  so  narrow-minded,  that  you 
had  to  hold  them  up  and  look  at  them  sidewise  to 
see  that  they  had  any  mind  at  all.  Illiberal  men,  I 
dare  to  say,  can  be  discovered  among  our  number, 
who  are  harsh  and  hard  in  their  judgments,  bit- 
ter toward  opponents,  and  severe  against  the  mis- 
taken. I  think  that  there  may  be  men  in  this  city 
who  candidly  doubt  whether  Universalists  and  Unita- 
rians are  within  the  pale  of  possible  conversion,  and 
who  practically  consign  them  to  the  mysterious  dis- 
pensation of  God  concerning  the  reprobate,  rather 
than  enclose  them  in  the  arms  of  charity  and  hopeful 
prayer.  Some  theologians  interpret  the  doctrine  of 
election,  I  notice,  only  in  the  way  of  damnation,  and 
not  at  all  in  the  way  of  salvation.  They  make  it  an 
awful  doctrine, — one  to  beat  men  down  with,  to 
crush  and  pulverize  them  with,  and  rob  all  loving 
hearts  of  the  magnificent  hope,  that,  in  the  freedom 
and  swing  of  God's  sovereignty,  multitudes  shall  be 
saved  by  the  unknown  operations  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
and  the  exercise  of  that  mercy  which  in  measure 
is  infinite,  and  the  outgoings  of  which  are  often  hid- 
den. I  received  a  note  last  winter,  warning  me  not 
to  so  phrase  my  devotions  that  the  heterodox  and  sin- 
ners should  feel  that  they  could  join  in  that  portion 
of  the  service  intended  especially  for  the  saints  !  Just 
as  if  a  certain  class  has  the  right  to  monopolize  the 
devotions  of  the  sanctuar}T,  and  say  to  the  ignorant, 
the  poor,  the  burdened,  the  darkened  in  mind,  "  Here, 


ITS  NEED  AND  EFFICIENCY.  93 

you  stand  aside  for  a  few  moments ;  stop  your  ears, 
choke  down  your  sobs,  while  we  professed  Christiana 
do  a  little  worship  on  our  own  account."  That  is 
bigotry;  and  I  hope  the  person  who  wrote  that 
letter  has  been  converted  by  God's  sweet  grace  to 
more  correct  and  kindly  views  of  sanctuary  worship 
ere  this,  and  feels  to-day  that  all  the  burdened  in  the 
world  can  say  with  her,  "Our  Father  who  art  in 
heaven." 

But,  because  bigoted  and  illiberal  men  can  be  found 
in  the  orthodox  churches,  it  does  not  follow  that  they 
are  exclusively  found  in  them,  nor  in  any  greater 
proportion  than  in  other  organizations.  This  whole 
matter  depends  a  deal  upon  what  definition  you  give 
to  bigotry.  If  to  believe  any  truth  with  one's  whole 
soul  is  to  be  a  bigot,  then  most  orthodox  Christians 
are  indeed  bigots,  and  their  creed  a  compilation  of 
intense  bigotry  ;  for  we  do  most  heartily  believe  what 
we  advocate.  And  I  notice  that  this  is  the  definition 
which  many  give  to  the  term.  How  false  it  is,  you 
all  know.  Intelligent  espousal  of  is  not  an  unreason- 
able adherence  to  a  cause.  Belief  in  a  truth  is  not 
blind  advocacy.  Faith  is  not  credulity.  On  the 
other  hand,  you  have  doubtless  observed  that  a  new 
definition  is  given  now-a-days  to  liberalism.  To  be  a 
liberal,  in  certain  circles,  you  must  have  no  fixed  be- 
lief in  any  thing  yourself,  nor  admit  that  any  intelli- 
gent person  can  have.  You  must  assume  that  the 
oracles  of  knowledge  have  been  surrendered  by  the 
gods  to  you  and  a  few  others,  and  that  the  rest  of 
the  world  are  incapable  of  correct  criticism  and  accu- 


94  POSITIVENESS   OF   BELIEF: 

rate  judgment.  You  must  satirize  whatever  is  most 
sacred  and  conservative  in  men's  belief,  laugh  at  all 
conclusions  the  world  reached  prior  to  1840,  and  de- 
nounce as  orthodox  bigots  such  as  may  think  differ- 
ently than  yourself.  And  a  strange  thing  have  I  seen 
and  noted  since  coming  to  this  city.  I  have  seen  a 
liberalism  superlatively  narrow-minded,  and  those 
who  denounced  denunciation  dealing  in  it  the  most. 
Protesting  against  the  shooting  of  arrows  at  brethren 
as  barbarous  and  illiberal,  the  strings  of  their  own 
bows  are  ceaselessly  vibrant  with  the  rapidity  of  their 
shots. 

No  !  true  liberalism  does  not  find  its  advocates  and 
exemplars  among  those  who  now  loudly  appropriate 
this  title.  Back  of  all  true  liberality  is  a  positive 
conviction ;  a  sharply-drawn  line  to  deflect  from  in 
order  to  make  the  deflection  worth  any  thing  as  a 
test  of  temper  and  charity.  A  man  who  yields  does 
not  yield  at  all  unless  there  is  in  him  a  strong  motive 
not  to  yield  ;  and  the  value  of  the  courtesy  is  gradu- 
ated solely  by  the  effort  it  cost  to  grant  it.  And 
these  theological  and  metaphysical  jugglers,  who  meet 
to  practise  sleight  of  hand,  and  toss  the  problems 
of  life  and  destiny  as  players  do  a  ball,  for  their 
own  amusement ;  who  yield  without  giving  up  any 
thing ;  who  say,  "  See,  we  grant  you  all  for  the  sake 
of  free  opinion,"  —  when,  in  point  of  fact,  they  never 
had  any  downright,  well-settled  opinion,  —  are  not  lib- 
erals: they  are  intellectual  shufflers,  caring  no  more 
for  the  theories  they  advance  than  gamblers  do  for 
the  pieces  of  pasteboard  that  they  shuffle  so  nimbly. 


ITS  NEED   AND   EFFICIENCY.  95 

A  man  who  does  not  care  what  he  thinks  himself, 
or  what  his  boy  thinks,  or  what  views  society  adopts 
for  its  guidance,  cannot  be  a  liberal ;  bnt  he  who 
does  care,  both  for  his  own  safety  and  the  safety  of 
others,  what  opinions  prevail,  who  is  intensely  inter- 
ested and  wrought  upon  by  what  he  regards  as  evil 
instruction,  and  }^et  who  treats  with  courtesy  and 
listens  patiently  to  him  who  promulgates  what  he 
regards  as  error,  is  the  true  and  the  only  real  liberal. 
If  this  eminently  just  distinction  should  be  kept  ill 
mind,  how  many  a  head-  would  be  stripped  of  its 
stolen  plumes,  and  how  many  another  would  be 
crowned  with  an  enduring  wreath  ! 

It  has  also  been  said  more  than  once  in  my  hearing 
since  coming  to  this  city,  —  and  the  saying  has  gone 
out  to  the  world,  even  to  foreign  parts,  —  that  the  or- 
thodox churches  of  New  England  do  not  allow  any 
freedom  and  latitude  of  expression  in  their  pulpits,  but 
fetter  their  teachers  with  the  bands  and  cords  of  old 
and  erroneous  interpretation. 

If  this  were  true,  then  would  it  indeed  be  a  grievous 
charge,  and  grievously  would  the  churches  answer  it. 
For  growth  in  knowledge  is  the  organic  law  of  piety, 
as  it  is  a  command  to  it.  Knowledge  of  God  expands 
as  the  human  mind  expands ;  and  God  will  doubtless 
appear  more  and  more  worthy  of  honor  and  glory  as 
human  intelligence  increases  through  the  ages.  Ap- 
prehension of  Jehovah,  and  understanding  of  his 
attributes,  are  as  a  stream  which  widens  and  deepens 
its  channel  as  it  flows.  Every  advance  in  science, 
every  invention  in  mechanics,  every  exploration  of 


96  POSITIVENESS   OF  BELIEF: 

the  earth's  surface,  every  research  of  history  which 
brings  the  tombs  of  ancient  kingdoms  to  light,  every 
addition  to  human  thought  which  gives  the  world 
richer  and  fuller  forms  of  expression,  will  contribute 
to  manifest  God  more  clearly  to  the  intellect  and 
heart  of  men.  Not  to  fetter  and  retard,  but  to  eman- 
cipate, and  assist  its  teacher  in  acquisition  of  knowl- 
edge, should,  therefore,  be  the  policy  of  every  church ; 
knowing  this  well,  that  what  they  contribute  to  him 
in  the  form  of  grain  will  finally  come  back  to  them 
in  the  form  of  well-prepared  loaves.  And  this  —  to 
encourage  their  teachers  to  new  and  fuller  invest!- 
gation  and  discovery  of  truth  and  the  application  of 
it  —  was  of  old  the  characteristic  of  the  Puritan 
churches.  I  will  recite  to  you  the  words  of  the  ven- 
erable Robinson  to  the  Pilgrims  which  he  uttered  as 
their  pastor  as  they  were  about  to  depart  for  Amer- 
ica:  — 

"  If  God  reveal  any  thing  to  you  by  any  other  in- 
strument of  his,  be  as  ready  to  receive  it  as  ever  you 
were  to  receive  any  truth  by  my  ministry ;  for  I  am 
verily  persuaded,  I  am  very  confident,  the  Lord  has 
more  truth  yet  to  break  forth  out  of  his  holy  word. 
For  my  part,  I  cannot  sufficiently  bewail  the  condi- 
tion of  the  reformed  churches,  who  are  come  to  a 
period  in  religion,  and  will  go,  at  present,  no  further 
than  the  instruments  of  their  reformation.  .  .  .  This 
is  a  misery  much  to  be  lamented ;  for  though  they 
were  burning  and  shining  lights  in  their  times,  yet 
they  penetrated  not  into  the  whole  counsel  of  God, 
but,  were  they  now  living,  would  be  as  willing  to  em- 


ITS   NEED   AND   EFFICIENCY.  97 

brace  further  light  as  that  which  they  first  received. 
I  beseech  you  remember  it,  'tis  an  article  of  your 
church  covenant  that  you  be  ready  to  receive  what- 
ever truth  shall  be  made  known  to  you  from  the 
written  word  of  God." 

This  was  the  spirit  of  the  most  advanced  of  the 
Puritan  leaders  in  theology ;  and  it  will  be  a  fatal  day 
to  their  successors  when  they  forget  it. 

Now,  my  friends,  you  know  that  intellectual  free- 
dom is  the  sole  condition  of  intellectual  growth. 
You  must  give  a  man  some  freedom  of  swing  if  you 
wish  to  get  the  best  pace  out  of  him.  A  preacher  of 
divine  truth,  either  as  it  respects  the  science  of  moral 
government  or  its  application  to  human  affairs,  who 
stands  in  fear  of  any  one,  who  feels  that  the  pews 
are  watching  him  to  pounce  upon  some  novel  form  of 
expressing  an  old  truth  or  the  utterance  of  a  new  one, 
is  a  man  that  will  never  grow.  And  as  the  teacher 
is  dwarfed,  so  will  the  pupils  be.  Let  the  preacher, 
on  the  other  hand,  feel  that  his  audience  sympathizes 
with  him  in  his  attempt  to  push  ahead  into  new  fields 
of  thought  and  expression,  let  them  encourage  sug- 
gestion as  well  as  deduction,  a  style  of  preaching 
calculated  to  quicken  their  own  minds  to  think  for 
themselves,  instead  of  burdening  their  memories  with 
divisions  and  sub-divisions,  and  they  will  climb  to- 
gether the  shining  steps  of  Nature  and  of  God.  Their 
piety  will  be  deep  because  it  is  intelligent.  It  is  very 
easy  to  mistake  ignorant  piety  for  profound  piety; 
just  as  often,  in  boating,  one  fancies  the  stream  to  be 
deep  because  the  water  is  so  muddy  that  he  cannot 
see  the  bottom. 


98  POSITIVENESS  OF   BELIEF: 

Now,  what  is  the  position  and  conduct  of  the 
evangelical  churches  of  the  several  denominations  in 
New  England  in  reference  to  this  matter?  With 
here  and  there  an  exception,  I  believe  it  to  be  emi- 
nently satisfactory.  It  has  been  my  good  fortune  to 
serve  in  four  strictly  orthodox  churches  of  the  old 
type  ;  and  never  in  either  did  I  experience  the  least 
embarrassment.  The  oldest  Christians  were  invaria- 
bly my  warmest  friends  and  stoutest  supporters  ;  and 
I  do  not  think  that  any  one  who  has  often  heard  me 
preach  would  say  that  I  allow  myself  to  be  very  much 
cramped  in  expression  of  what  I  believe  to  be  true 
through  fear  of  any  order  of  men  living.  And  I 
believe  that  this  is  the  characteristic  experience  of 
all  New-England  preachers.  On  the  questions  of 
slavery  and  temperance,  the  sabbath-school  question, 
the  associations  of  young  men,  and  kindred  ones, 
questions  of  organization  and  administration  both", 
touching  the  very  vitals  of  the  Church,  running  coun- 
ter to  many  Jong-cherished  opinions,  the  pulpits  have 
spoken  with  a  clearness  and  boldness  unparalleled  in 
the  history  of  any  other  church  or  people.  Evangeli- 
cal scholarship,  also,  has  been  original  as  well  as  accu- 
rate. It  has  not  contented  itself  with  repeating  the 
formulas  of  the  fathers :  it  has  gladly  accepted  every 
discovery  in  science  as  soon  as  it  was  well  established ; 
yea,  it  has  contributed  not  a  little  to  such  discoveries 
themselves.  The  variety,  the  originality,  the  indi- 
viduality, of  the  preaching  in  the  evangelical  churches 
of  America  to-day,  are  matters  of  world-wide  remark. 

Now,  my  hearers,  churches  which  have  introduced 


ITS  NEED   AND  EFFICIENCY.  99 

so  many  reforms  in  the  last  fifty  years  as  the  orthodox 
churches  of  America  have ;  which  have  encouraged 
such  students  of  science  as  Hickox  and  Dana  and 
Silliman ;  which  have  fostered  a  pulpit,  that,  for 
power,  originality,  and  even  idiosyncrasies  of  expres- 
sion, is  noted  the  world  over,  and  are  to-day  giving 
the  highest  honors  and  warmest  welcome  to  the  bold- 
est speakers  and  most  independent  thinkers,  — we  say, 
and  do  not  fear  that  any  will  attempt  to  gainsay  it,  — 
we  say  that  such  churches  cannot  justly  be  called 
bigoted  or  intolerant ;  and  those  who  say  it,  say  it  to 
the  exposure  of  their  own  ignorance,  and  the  mani- 
festation of  their  own  intolerance. 

I  have  now  spoken  to  you  concerning  the  need  and 
some  of  the  influences  of  a  positive  belief.  I  have 
striven  to  meet  some  of  the  charges  made  against 
those  who  hold  to  their  convictions  in  respect  to  the 
Bible  and  God.  I  ask  you,  in  conclusion,  to  note  the 
happy  effect  of  a  positive  conviction  upon  the  nature. 
It  is  undeniably  true,  that  we  live  in  an  age  of  great 
mental  activity.  A  thousand  questions  of  duty  invite 
us  to  daily  decisions.  A  thousand  problems  challenge 
investigation.  The  age  is  tempestuous  with  specula- 
tions, and  every  man  is  the  centre  of  converging 
whirlwinds.  I  do  not  envy  that  person  who  has  not 
lashed  himself  to  some  granite  column  for  support. 
When  mental  uncertainty  has  passed  beyond  a  certain 
point,  it  is  not  the  source  of  growth,  but  of  torture. 
There  are  mysteries  in  religion  that  we  can  never 
understand.     Never  by  searching  shall  we  find  out 


100  POSITIVENESS   OF   BELIEF. 

God.  In  him  are  depths  no  thought  of  man  may  ever 
sound.  Life,  too,  is  intricate ;  and  not  seldom  must 
we  grope  blindly,  and  feel  our  way  along  as  a  blind 
man  feels  his  way,  keeping  close  to  the  friendly  wall. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  all  that  is  essential  for  us  to 
know,  all  that  is  needed  for  our  guidance  and  conso- 
lation, is  within  our  reach.  I  urge  upon  you  all,  and 
especially  upon  you  who  are  young,  to  be  positive  in 
your  belief.  Base  not 'your  faith  on  ignorance,  but 
on  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  inspired  volume. 
Be  diligent  students  of  the  Word.  Scepticism  has 
two  sources  in  our  day,  —  an  overweening  pride  of  in- 
tellect, which  disdains  to  sit  as  an  humble  learner  at 
the  feet  of  God ;  and  superficial  knowledge  of  the 
Scriptures.  These  are  the  two  fountains  of  bitterness 
from  which  flow  waters  that  quench  no  thirst,  and 
drinking  which  you  will  imbibe  fever  and  delirium. 
Avoid  both ;  and  remember  that  no  pilgrim  ever  went 
to  the  oracle  of  God,  seeking  needed  knowledge  and 
wisdom  how  to  live,  bringing  in  one  hand  humility, 
and  in  the  other  gratitude,  as  offerings  to  its  shrine, 
but  that  received  at  last,  although  at  first  its  face  was 
as  marble,  the  needed  message.  Cold  and  impertur- 
bable was  the  countenance  of  the  God  at  first :  but  as 
the  suppliant  gazed,  praying  as  he  gazed,  a  blush 
stole  over  the  chiselled  features ;  the  stony  orbs  re- 
turned in  love  the  suppliant's  gaze ;  the  closed  lips 
opened,  and  the  long-sought  words  of  wisdom  broke 
on  the  listener's  ear. 


SABBATH  MORNING,  APRIL  9,  1871. 


SERMON. 


SUBJECT. -CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP:  WHAT  CONSTITUTES  FITNESS  FOR  IT  7 
AND  WHEN  SHOULD  IT  BE  ENTERED  UPON  7 

"  Then  they  that  gladly   received  his  word  were  baptized  ; 
and  the  same  day  there  were  added  unto  them  about  threb 

THOUSAND   SOULS."  —  Acts  ii.   41. 

IRE  JOICE  that  many  of  you  in  this  congregation, 
enlightened  by  the  Spirit  concerning  the  sinful- 
ness of  your  natures,  and  made  sensitive  to  the  claims 
of  the  divine  law  upon  you,  have,  by  repentance  of 
sin,  and  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  entered  into 
filial  relation  with  God.  You  have  been  born  in  the 
new  birth,  —  a  far  nobler  birth  than  that  after  the 
flesh.  You  have  begun  to  live  a  new  life,  —  the  life 
of  faith,  of  holiness,  and,  I  trust,  of  joy.  You  have 
been  introduced  to  a  new  world  of  experience  and 
duty.  You  are  like  birds,  which,  born  in  vocal  bond- 
age, find  themselves,  after  long  years  of  silence,  on 
some  spring  morning,  suddenty  endowed  with  the 
power  of  song.  A  "new  song"  has  been  put  into 
your  mouths ;  and  your  spiritual  natures  are  no  longer 

dumb,  but  tunefully  active.    You  have  not  only  come 

101 


102  CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP: 

to  many  new  and  beautiful  exercises,  but  also  to  the 
apprehension  of  new  duties ;  or,  if  not  to  new  duties, 
to  duties  never  until  now  recognized.  Many  an  obli- 
gation hitherto  unnoted  4s  now  discerned.  Judgment 
and  conscience,  which  heretofore  have  lain  in  a  half- 
dormant  state,  are  now  thoroughly  wide  awake.  They 
will  never  sleep  again.  Activity  henceforth  will  be 
their  normal  condition.  The  eyes  of  that  censorship 
which  God  imposes  on  our  conduct  when  Ave  become 
his  children  are  never  shut :  they  glow  with  the 
energy  of  divine  discrimination.  Their  lids  never 
droop  :  weariness  and  slumber  never  weigh  them 
down.  They  stand  open  and  watchful  forever  like 
God's  own. 

Now,  among  the  first  questions  of  duty  and  expe- 
diency which  arise  before  the  converted  mind  is  this 
of  church-membership,  —  of  making  public  profession 
of  one's  faith  in  God ;  for  the  two,  in  our  day,  are 
essentially  one  and  the  same.  What  constitutes  fit- 
ness for  church-membership  ?  and  how  soon  after  con- 
version should  it  be  entered  upon  ?  These  are  ques- 
tions I  propose  to  discuss  before  you  this  morning,  in 
the  hope  that  some  of  you  may  be  assisted  to  a  fuller 
understanding  of  your  duty  in  the  premises  than  you 
now  have. 

Before  one  can  ascertain  whether  he  should  connect 
himself  with  the  Church,  he  must  inform  himself  as  to 
its  nature  and  object.  I  grant  that  the  performance 
of  a  duty  imperfectly  apprehended  is  better  than  no 
performance  at  all ;  but  better,  far  better  is  it  when 
the  duty  is  clearly  apprehended,  and  the  person  is 


WHAT  CONSTITUTES  FITNESS  FOR  IT?        103 

quickened  to  its  fulfilment  by  a  strong,  intelligent 
conviction. 

First,  then,  I  remark  of  the  Church,  touching  its 
nature,  that  it  is  a  holy  fellowship,  composed  of 
people  inspired  with  the  same  motive  of  faith  in 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  obedience  to  God.  The 
ground  and  cause  of  this  fellowship  is  purely  spirit- 
ual. It  is  not  a  mental  union  nor  a  social  union 
that  unites  them,  but  a  spiritual  one.  They  are  held 
together,  not  by  earthly,  but  by  heavenly  ties.  "  One 
Lord,  one  faith,  one  baptism,"  is  the  key-note  of  the 
one  song  which  is  breathed  from  every  heart,  and  that 
trembles  on  every  lip.  They  walk  in  company,  clasp- 
ing each  his  neighbor's  hand,  because  they  are  all 
going  one  way,  all  travelling  toward  the  same  spot. 
Amid  perils,  the  danger  is  in  common  ;  in  joy,  the 
gladness  is  felt  alike  in  every  heart. 

Again :  the  Church  is  the  agent  of  God.  He  has 
gathered  it,  not  as  waters  are  gathered  in  inland  lakes, 
and  whose  highest  use  is  to  reflect  the  heavens,  beau- 
tify the  landscape,  and  minister  to  the  activities  and 
life  bred  within  itself :  he  has  gathered  it  rather  as 
water  is  gathered  into  a  pond,  not  to  remain,  but  to 
flow  out  and  be  utilized  for  the  good  of  men ;  so  that 
the  poor  bless  it  for  the  bread  it  furnishes  them,  and 
the  houses  it  enables  them  to  build.  The  fellowship 
of  a  church  is  not  that  of  mere  knowledge  and  hope  : 
it  is  a  fellowship  in  activities  and  labors  and  sacrifices ; 
a  fellowship  of  toil  and  of  suffering.  Its  object  is  to 
afford  its  membership  the  opportunity  of  combined 
effort  for  the  good  of  others  ;  to  organize  labor,  and 


104  CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP: 


make  the  energies  of  each  more  potent  by  uniting 
them  to  others ;  to  make  agencies  more  efficient  by 
the  multiplication  of  agents.  It  is  only  an  imitation 
of  the  wisdom  seen  in  Nature,  which  seeks  through 
the  principle  of  combination  to  produce  grand  results. 
Her  mountains  are  composed  of  individual  atoms ; 
her  oceans  and  seas  and  rivers,  of  separate  drops ; 
the  air,  by  the  mingling  of  many  elements ;  and  all 
her  noblest  effects  are  produced  by  the  co-operation 
of  many  causes.  The  Church  is  not  merely  a  fellow- 
ship: it  is  an  organization.  Its  foundations  do  not 
rest  on  personal  election  and  individual  preference, 
but  on  the  immovable  granite  of  a  divinely-imposed 
obligation.  Its  object  is,  not  the  growth  and  happi- 
ness of  its  members  alone,  but  the  glory  of  God 
through  the  conversion  of  men. 

What,  then,  let  us  inquire,  constitutes  fitness  for 
church-membership  ?  When  is  a  person  ready  for  its 
fellowship  ?  When  is  it  obligatory  upon  him  to  join 
it,  and  thereby  swell  the  volume  of  its  organized 
activities  ? 

I  answer,  Conversion  constitutes  the  ground  of 
fitness.  Every  soul  born  of  the  Spirit  is  ready  for 
the  fellowship  of  the  Christian  Church.  The  Scrip- 
tures are  very  implicit  upon  this  point,  both  in  the 
way  of  terms  prescribed  and  of  examples.  Repent-' 
ance  and  faith  are  everywhere  proclaimed  as  the  con- 
ditions of  salvation,  and  therefore  of  church-member- 
ship. And  I  wish  you  to  observe  that  these  are  the 
only  conditions.  Whoever  has  repented  of  his  sins, 
and  has  intrusted  his  soul  to  Christ  for  salvation, 


WHAT   CONSTITUTES   FITNESS   FOR   IT?         105 

must  be  admitted  to  the  sacraments  and  privileges 
of  the  Christian  Church  upon  application.  This  is 
the  only  scriptural  view  that  can  be  taken  of  the 
matter.  No  individual  church  can  justly  refuse  such 
an  applicant.  God  has  not  left  it  optional  with  the 
churches  whether  they  will  receive  such  applicants  or 
not.  As  it  is  the  duty  of  all  to  apply  for  membership, 
so  is  it  the  duty  of  the  churches  to  bestow  it  upon  all 
who  have  complied  with  the  gospel  conditions. 

I  would,  if  possible,  emphasize  this  position,  because 
some  churches,  through  their  committees  of  confer- 
ence, seem  to  act  as  if  they  had  the  right  to  elect 
touching  their  membership,  and  pronounce  who 
should  and  who  should  not  join  it.  Such  should  be 
reminded  that  it  is  not  their  Church,  but  God's 
Church,  to  which  the  candidates  have  come  seeking 
admission.  It  is  not  their  table,  but  the  Lord's  table, 
from  which  the  sacrament  is  served ;  and  it  is  not 
such  as  satisfy  their  demands,  but  such  as  satisfy  the 
demands  of  Scripture,  who  are  entitled  to  a  seat  at 
the  supper.  The  only  legitimate  subject  of  inquisi- 
tion for  such  a  committee,  the  only  authority  granted 
them  by  the  Church,  or  that  can  be  granted  them,  on 
scriptural  grounds,  is  to  ascertain  whether  the  appli- 
cant has  truly  and  conscientiously  complied  with  the 
gospel  terms,  —  repentance  and  faith.  If  he  has, 
then  he  must  be  admitted  to  that  church  to  which 
the  Spirit  has  inclined  him.  Questions  that  concern 
the  future  government  of  the  conduct,  questions  in 
theology  as  a  science,  questions  that  do  not  go  to 
furnish  direct  evidence  for  or  against  the  fact  of  re- 

5* 


106  CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP: 

generation,  are  entirely  irrelevant  and  unwarranted. 
The  only  way  to  go  behind  the  candidate's  per- 
sonal testimony  is  by  doubting  his  intelligence,  or  im- 
peaching his  honesty.  If  he  is  intelligent  enough  to 
know  what  repentance  and  faith  mean,  and  is  not  a 
hypocrite,  then  must  he  be  admitted  to  the  Church. 
To  keep  him  a  single  day  from  the  Lord's  table  is  to 
debar  him  of  a  privilege  indisputably  his ;  is  to 
"  offend  "  one  of  Christ's  "  little  ones."  How  grave 
an  offence  this  is,  you  who  are  familiar  with  Scrip- 
ture know. 

I  have  thus  far  been  speaking  more  especially  of  the 
Church,  —  its  nature  and  duty.  We  will  now  turn 
the  subject  round,  and  look  at  it  from  the  other  side, 
—  the  duty  and  relation  to  the  Church  of  the  converts 
themselves. 

The  question  is  often  asked  the  pastor  by  those 
converted  under  his  charge,  "  When  should  converts 
join  the  Church  ?  "  To  which  there  is,  as  it  seems  to 
me,  but  one  reply  :  "  As  soon  as  convenient  after  con- 
version." All  unnecessary  delay  is  of  the  nature  of 
sin ;  and  this  will  be  seen  when  you  consider,  — 

1.  That  no  duty  should  be  neglected. 

As  I  have  said,  church-membership  is  not  optional 
to  a  Christian.  "  Do  this  in  remembrance  of  Me  "  is 
as  much  a  command  as  "  Thou  shalt  not  steal."  Pub- 
lic confession  is  obligatory  upon  every  disciple.  It  is 
made  by  Christ  a  test  of  love,  —  a  test  of  acceptance 
at  the  last  day :  "  He  who  confesseth  me  before  men, 
him  will  I  also  confess  before  my  Father  who  is  in 
heaven  ;  and  he  who  confesseth  me  not  before  men, 


WHAT  CONSTITUTES  FITNESS  FOR  IT?         107 

bini  will  I  not  confess  before  my  Father  who  is  in 
heaven."  You  see,  friends,  that  I  am  not  speaking 
along  the  line  of  my  own  fallible  judgment,  but  along 
the  line  of  God's  inspired  word  ;  and  I  pray  that  the 
word  may  be  received  of  you,  and  dwell  in  you  richly. 
It  is  not,  as  you  see,  a  matter  of  choice,  of  mere  pref- 
erence, of  personal  inclination,  whether  you  who  are 
converted,  who  feel  yourselves  to  have  been  born  of  the 
Spirit,  shall  publicly  profess  your  faith  or  not.  You 
have  no  election  in  the  matter :  God  forbids  you  to 
have.  Duty  comes  to  you,  not  in  the  form  of  a  sug- 
gestion, but  in  the  form  of  a  command.  To  defer  the 
commanded  action  is  to  prolong  disobedience. 

2.  Experience,  as  we  should  expect,  favors  com- 
pliance with  the  injunction  of  Scripture.  Go  to  the 
churches  from  one  end  of  the  land  to  the  other,  and 
investigate  this  matter,  and  you  will  find  that  those 
disciples  that  have  not  made  public  profession  of 
their  faith,  are  not  united  with  any  church-organiza- 
tion, are  stunted  in  their  own  spiritual  development, 
and  almost  useless  as  co-laborers.  Exceptions  there 
may  be ;  but,  as  a  rule,  you  would  find  this  true. 
There  is  something  radically  defective,  friends,  in  a 
piety  that  shrinks  from  the  light  of  acknowledgment. 
A  man  who  follows  Christ  so  far  off  as  to  refuse  to  be 
known  as  his  follower,  can  do  little  good,  and  must 
do  much  hurt,  to  his  cause.  If  one  of  your  children 
had  never  been  seen  in  its  mother's  arms,  never  stood 
in  your  family-circle,  never  been  in  your  house,  never 
been  called  by  your  name,  who  would  suppose  it  to 
be  your  child  ?     And  so,  if  a  man  never  calls  himself 


108  CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP: 

a  Christian,  is  never  seen  amid  God's  children,  or  at 
the  family-table,  or  in  the  household  of  faith,  who 
would  suppose  that  he  is  a  Christian  at  all?  The 
happy,  the  honored  children  are  those  who  bear  the 
father's  name,  and  stand  acknowledged  in  his  pres- 
ence. For  them  provision  is  made.  Their  growth  is 
duly  ministered  unto.  They  receive  the  full  benefit 
of  the  family  connection.  They  become  useful. 
Non-membership  is  also  a  kind  of  denial  of  Christ. 
It  is  one  form  of  opposition.  The  son  that  does  not 
acknowledge  the  father  when  the  occasion  demands 
acknowledgment,  denies  the  father.  Every  refusal  to 
bear  testimony  for  Christ  is  a  denial  of  Christ.  It  is 
Peter's  sin  over  again,  —  a  sin  to  be  repented  of  bit- 
terly with  tears. 

And  now,  just  at  this  point,  I  pause  in  the  exposi- 
tion of  the  subject  to  say,  If  any  of  you  are  striving 
to  serve  Christ  in  secrecy,  strive  no  more ;  for  you  are 
striving  to  do  an  impossible  thing.  No  follower  of 
his  can  wear  a  mask.  He  allows  no  soldier  without 
his  uniform  in  his  army.  The  very  first  step  in  the 
line  of  usefulness  is  publicity.  If  you  are  covering 
up  your  faith,  if  you  think  you  can  be  his  child  and 
not  bear  his  name,  you  are  mistaken.  He  will  disown 
j'ou,  as  unworthy  of  him,  at  the  last  day.  You  are 
planning  to  live  a  Christian  life  without  fulfilling  a 
Christian's  duty ;  and  God  will  never  bless  you  in  such 
an  attempt.  You  are  the  very  person  to  whom  the 
words  of  the  Master  himself  apply :  "  He  that  is  not 
with  mo  is  against  me."  Do  you  hear  Christ  saying 
this   to   you,  —  you  who  are  concealing   yourselves 


WHAT  CONSTITUTES  FITNESS  FOR  IT?        109 

while  the  battle  rages  ?  Can  you  who  crouch  and  hide 
yourselves  amid  the  impenitent,  and  are  undistin- 
guished-from  them,  hear  the  voice,  clearer  than  any 
bugle,  lifting  itself  up  and  making  itself  heard  amid 
the  roar  of  contention,  saying,  "  He  who  is  not  pub- 
licly for  me  in  this  great  work,  he  who  fights  not 
openly  for  me  in  this  critical  hour  of  my  fortunes, 
must  be  looked  upon  as  being  against  me :  I  will 
never  crown  any  head  above  which  my  banner  does 
not  float"? 

3.  Again:  the  examples  of  gospel  history  favor 
this  position. 

Two  things  are  observable  in  Scripture  history,  — 
the  suddenness  of  the  conversions,  and  the  quickness 
with  which  the  converts  made  public  confession  of 
their  faith.  Recall  the  history  of  the  eunuch's  con- 
version. Directly  he  was  convicted  of  the  truth,  he 
queried  of  Philip  —  But  I  will  read  the  narrative 
to  you,  that  you  may  have  it  fresh  in  your  memo- 
ries :  — 

"  And,  as  they  went  on  their  way,  they  came  unto 
a  certain  water.  And  the  eunuch  said,  See,  here  is 
water :  what  doth  hinder  me  to  be  baptized  ?  "  Now, 
mark  the  reply  of  the  apostle :  "  And  Philip  said, 
If  thou  believest  with  all  thy  heart,  thou  mayest. 
And  he  answered,  and  said,  I  believe  that  Jesus 
Christ  is  the  Son  of  God.  And  he  commanded  the 
chariot  to  stand  still :  and  they  went  down  both  into 
the  water,  both  Philip  and  the  eunuch  ;  and  he  bap- 
tized him." 

Take  Saul's  conversion,  and  the  promptness  with 


110  CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP: 

which  he  acknowledged  the  Lord's  mastership  over 
him  in  the  words,  "  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to 
do?"  or  the  case  of  the  three  thousand  at  tjie  Pen- 
tecostal season,  who  "joined  the  Church  the  same 
day,"  —  the  day  of  their  conversion.  All  point  in 
one  and  the  same  direction ;  viz.,  that  church-mem- 
bership as  an  act  should  follow  swift  upon  conversion. 
Between  the  date  of  one's  conversion  unto  Christ 
and  public  acknowledgment  of  the  same  there  should 
be  no  delay,  no  season  of  doubt  and  hesitation.  So 
soon  as  the  babe  is  born,  let  it  go  to  the  mother's 
breast. 

"  But,"  I  hear  certain  of  you  inquire,  "  do  you  not 
think  it  advisable  for  young  converts  to  wait  a  while, 
in  order  to  see  if  they  will  hold  on?"  I  answer  em- 
phatically, No  !  If  not  converted,  see  that  they  wait 
until  they  are ;  but  if  God's  Spirit  has  begun  the 
work  of  grace  in  their  hearts,  albeit  in  its  inception  it 
be  no  larger  than  the  "  smallest  of  all  seeds,"  let  them 
at  once  connect  themselves  with  the  Church.  If  holi- 
ness is  germinaht  in  them,  then  give  it  the  proper  lo- 
cation and  nurture  at  once.  Why,  consider  this  posi- 
tion in  reference  to  the  converts  themselves.  Is  not 
the  church-relation  a  help  to  Christians  ?  "  Certain- 
ly," you  say ;  "  a  great  help."  Well,  I  respond,  when 
do  Christians  need  it  most?  —  when  young  or  old, 
weak  or  strong,  tried  or  untried  ?  Church-member- 
ship is  a  restraint.  What  class  most  needs  the  influ- 
ence of  such  a  check?  Most  assuredly  the  young, 
and  such  as  experience  has  not  seasoned  into  thought- 
fulness.     When  is  the   conservative  influence   of  a 


WHAT  CONSTITUTES  FITNESS  FOR  IT?         m 

pledge  most  beneficial  to  a  reformed  drunkard  ?  Un- 
doubtedly, the  first  few  months  after  his  reformation. 
While  his  appetite  is  only  partially  subdued ;  his  old 
comrades  persistent;  his  new  habit  of  life  uncon- 
firmed ;  his  temptations,  because  of  his  surroundings 
and  his  inward  weakness,  many,  —  then  it  is  that  his 
pledge  —  the  thought  that  he  has  solemnly  given  his 
promise  not  to  drink  —  strengthens  him,  and  more 
than  once  saves  him  from  fatal  lapse.  Well,  church- 
membership  is  one  form  of  a  pledge ;  and  many  and 
many  a  time  has  it  saved  the  young  convert  from  fall- 
ing. I  have  stood  on  a  mountain,  sheltered  behind 
its  projection  of  granite,  when  the  winds  tore  up  the 
very  soil,  and  the  young  oak-plants  and  pines  were 
wrenched  out  of  the  earth  and  sent  flying,  until  the 
very  air  above  my  head  was  darkened  with  their  torn 
foliage,  and  fragments  of  wood,  and  hissing  gravel ; 
and,  not  thirty  feet  from  where  I  crouched,  an  old 
sturdy  oak  stood  steady  and  immovable  as  in  the 
hush  of  a  perfect  calm,  roaring  out  its  hoarse  defiance 
to  the  gale  that  it  despised,  and  saying,  "  Come  on, 
ye  devils  of  the  cloud !  ye  can't  move  me.  I  have 
twined  my  roots  around  the  everlasting  rocks ;  and, 
while  I  am  vital,' no  power  but  that  which  established 
the  mountain  itself  can  pull  me  down."  And  so  it  is 
with  you.  There  are  some  of  you  who  are  young  in 
years,  and  weak  in  your  virtue.  You  need  protection. 
Left  unsheltered  and  exposed,  you  would  be  swept 
away.  And  others  of  you  are  seasoned  in  every  fibre  : 
your  faith  is  rooted  in  the  Everlasting,  and  the  sources 
of  ample  resistance  to  the  fiercest  temptations  are 


112  CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP: 

within  you ;  and  all  I  ask  is  that  the  churches  recog- 
nize this  difference  in  the  condition  of  those  whom 
Gocl  spiritually  has  given  to  their  care,  and  grant 
protection  to  those  who  need  it,  and  when  they  need 
it  most. 

There  is  one  relation  to  which  membership  is  an 
introduction,  the  value  and  importance  of  which,  to  a 
young  convert,  cannot  be  over-estimated.  I  refer  to 
the  pastoral.  The  pastor  of  a  church  is,  in  a  peculiar 
sense,  the  convert's  friend.  To  him  he  can  narrate 
the  past  experiences  of  his  life  and  his  present  temp- 
tations with  a  freedom  prompted  by  a  confidence  that 
he  is  speaking  to  the  official  representative  of  God, 
whose  very  position  makes  him  sympathetic  and  reti- 
cent as  infinite  mercy  itself.  The  confidences  that  a 
pastor  receives  are  the  most  solemn  trusts  committed 
to  his  care.  Held  sacred  in  life,  they  lie  down  with 
him  in  death.  Between  him  and  the  erring,  the 
weak,  and  the  ignorant  of  his  flock  is  a  bond  of  sym- 
pathy such  as  is  felt  in  no  other  circumstance  or  con- 
dition of  life.  Through  it  there  comes  to  him  that 
profound  knowledge  which  he  needs  of  the  workings 
of  the  human  heart,  the  ceaseless  energy  and  activity 
of  evil  in  the  world,  and  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
The  evidences  of  man's  depravity  and  of  God's  abid- 
ing love  he  reads  on  pages  of  human  experience  un- 
folded before  his  eyes,  —  pages  that  are  often  blotted 
with  tears,  and  traced  from  side  to  side  with  the  record 
of  sins  persisted  in  and  sins  repented  of :  and  he  re- 
ceives a  wisdom  he  can  receive  from  no  other  source ; 
nay,  not  from  the  Bible  itself.     He  thus  is  made  wise 


WHAT  CONSTITUTES  FITNESS  FOR  IT?         113 

in  counsel,  and  capable  to  advise.  By  him  the  igno- 
rant are  enlightened,  the  weak  strengthened,  the  wa- 
vering in  faith  confirmed ;  and  they  who  came  in  the 
very  frenzy  of  despair  are  calmed  and  cheered  by  the 
replacement  of  a  hope  which  they  thought  had  faded 
from  their  sky  forever.  There  are  words  that  no  voice 
can  speak  so  well  as  the  father's.  The  paternal  char- 
acter and  position  are  needed  to  properly  emphasize 
the  utterance.  Maternity,  also,  has  its  sphere ;  and 
certain  confidences  can  be  breathed  nowhere  so  freely 
as  on  the  mother's  bosom,  and  beneath  the  sweet 
complacency  of  a  mother's  face.  Friendship,  too,  has 
its  rank  in  the  economy  of  beneficence ;  and  love,  by 
its  touch  and  voice,  can  alone  assuage  some  sorrows. 
And  yet  to  some,  and  in  certain  conditions  of  life  and 
stages  of  experience,  a  pastor  can  be  and  do  what  nei- 
ther father  nor  mother,  friend  nor  lover,  can  be  and 
do.  To  him  as  to  no  one  else  can  the  revelation  of 
weakness  and  ignorance  be  made.  To  him  can  the 
story  of  guilt  and  fear  as  to  no  one  else  be  confided. 
From  him,  as  through  the  medium  elected  of  God,  can 
come  direction,  warning,  entreaty,  and  command,  as 
no  other  one  may  express  it.  Speaking  as  the  chosen 
messenger  of  God,  his  words  are  clothed  with  a  dig- 
nity and  solemnity  derived  at  once  from  the  character 
and  office  of  the  speaker ;  and  the  listener  receives 
them  with  a  patience,  attention,  and  gratitude  which 
the  utterances  of  none  other  could  command. 

To  this  tender,  gracious,  most  conservative  of  all 
relations,  honored  of  men,  and  blessed  of  God,  I  urge 
that  converts  be  admitted  at  once.     When  young  in 


114  CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP: 

faith,  when  most  sensitive  to  appeal,  most  grateful 
for  instruction,  and  fullest  of  needs,  place  them  be- 
neath the  guidance  and  loving  control  of  him  who  in 
the  providence  of  God,  and  by  reason  of  his  training 
and  office,  can  be  more  than  father  or  mother  to 
their  souls.  Never  is  a  shepherd  so  truly  a  shepherd 
as  when  he  stands  amid  a  multitude  of  his  lambs, 
and  answers  their  bleatings  by  scattering  among  them 
the  herbage  he  has  gathered  for  their  supply.  They 
will  love  his  face.  They  will  love  his  voice.  They 
will  watch  for  his  coming  with  eager  and  restless  joy. 
Their  growth  and  well-preserved  whiteness  will  be 
his  daily  delight.  They  will  fear  him  only  with  the 
reverence  of  love ;  and  the  days,  growing  sunnier  as 
they  pass,  will  add  to  the  confidence  of  the  one,  and 
the  joy  of  the  other.  That  Christian  who  passes  the 
first  six  months  of  his  Christian  experience  without 
pastoral  connection  loses  what  all  the  years  of  his  life 
cannot  make  up  to  him. 

"  But,"  it  may  be  asked,  "  what  if  they  should  fall 
away,  and  disgrace  their  profession?" 

This,  I  respond,  can  seldom  occur  if  the  pastor,  of- 
ficers, and  members  of  the  Church  do  their  duty. 
Why,  what  is  the  Church  for  ?  For  what  is  its  cove- 
nant obligation,  its  pastoral  office  and  relation,  its 
solemn  sacraments,  and  its  watchful  and  loving  dis- 
cipline, intended  and  adapted,  if  not  to  prevent  just 
this  danger  ?  For  what  is  all  this  costly  machinery 
kept  up,  —  costly  both  in  respect  to  the  money  and 
time  required  to  run  it, — -if  not  to  meet  just  this  ter- 
rible possibility  ?     Is  not  this  the  mission  and  express 


WHAT   CONSTITUTES  FITNESS   FOR  IT?        115 

service  of  the  Church.  ?  If  it  shrinks  from  this  work, 
if  it  releases  itself  from  labors  by  removing  the  ne- 
cessity of  them  when  the  existence  of  the  necessity 
is  divinely  intended  to  continue,  what  does  it  do  but 
thwart  the  plan  of  God,  and  become  as  useless  and 
uncalled  for  as  a  life-assurance  society  that  should 
vote  to  admit  none  to  its  privileges  save  such  as  it 
was  morally  certain  would  never  die  ?  And  yet  some 
churches  seem  to  act,  as  far  as  they  are  able,  upon 
just  this  principle ;  and  make,  not  repentance  and 
faith  the  terms  of  admission  to  them,  but  such  con- 
firmed habits  of  virtue  and  solid  attainments  as  cause 
the  examining  committee  to  be  morally  certain  that 
they,  at  least,  will  never  backslide.  The  hospital  is 
filled  with  patients ;  but  they  are  made  up  of  those 
whom  the  directors  have  examined,  and  are  confident 
that  they  have  not  a  particle  of  disease  about  them ! 

And  here  I  would  interject  a  word  or  two  concern- 
ing the  character  and  office  of  the  "  examining  com- 
mittee," as  it  is  called. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  the  term  is  a  misnomer. 
It  has  an  inquisitorial  significance  which  does  not  in- 
here to  the  office  of  the  board.  It  is  a  committee  of 
conference  rather  than  of  examination.  Its  duty  is  to 
confer  with  and  advise  the  candidates,  not  "  exam- 
ine "  them.  The 'meeting  is  not  one  of  official  inqui- 
sition, but  of  Christian  and  fraternal  consultation. 
The  candidates  "  examine  "  the  Church  in  the  person 
of  its  committee  as  much  as  the  Church  examines 
the  candidates.  The  interview  is  one  purely  of  inter- 
change of  opinion  and  sentiment,  and  not  one  of 


116  CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP: 

catechism.  It  should  be  a  pleasant,  social,  and 
prayerful  season  of  consultation  together. 

Again :  so  far  as  the  conference  partakes  of  the 
character  of  an  examination,  it  should  be,  as  con- 
ducted on  the  part  of  the  committee,  only  touching 
the  primary  experiences  of  Christian  life.  The  only 
possible  inquisition  allowable  is  that  concerning  the 
acts  of  repentance  and  faith.  These  being  assured, 
the  "  examination  "  can  go  no  farther.  It  is  not  a 
place  for  officers  of  the  Church  to  air  their  crotchets ; 
for  members  of  the  committee  to  parade  their  theo- 
logical opinions  ;  for  the  pastor  to  explain  the  doctrine 
of  election  ;  or  for  each  and  all  to  define  their  position 
on  the  sabbath  question,  the  sacred-concert  imbroglio, 
or  the  much-discussed  and  ever-changeful  relation  be- 
tween dancing  and  piety.  There  may  possibly  be  for 
unemployed  people  a  place  and  hour  in  which  these 
profound  problems  may  profitably  be  discussed ;  but 
the}r  are  not  found  at  the  conference  between  the 
Church  and  such  as  would  join  it.  There  is  a  higher 
and  holier  office  for  the  committee  to  fulfil.  I  have 
always  noted  that  it  is  those  who  are  "  weak  in  the 
faith,"  and  whom  the  apostle  enjoins  the  Church 
should  not  "receive  to  doubtful  disputations,"  that 
the  brethren  on  the  committee  wrangle  over  the 
most ! 

"  But  suppose  they  should  be  mistaken,"  you  say, 
"  as  to  their  experience,  and  have  not  been  converted 
at  all  ?  " 

This,  I  reply,  can  rarely  if  ever  happen  if  the  re- 
vival is  properly  conducted.     The  converts  who  are 


WHAT   CONSTITUTES   FITNESS  FOR  IT?         117 

"  deceived  as  to  their  hope "  are  those  who  have 
never  had  the  grounds  of  a  stable  hope  pointed  out  to 
them.  They  were  converted  in  a  hurry ;  rushed  into 
the  kingdom  by  the  pressure  of  human  hands,  amid 
excitement  and  groans.  Their  "  experience  "  con- 
sists in  physical  sensation,  the  tremors  of  coward- 
ice, the  emotions  caused  by  the  picturings  of  an  ima- 
gination unduly  and  unwarrantably  excited,  —  that 
blackest  of  all  draughtsmen,  —  and  a  delirium  which 
took  its  cue  from  its  surroundings,  and  which  sub- 
sided with  the  sights  and  sounds  that  caused  it.  It  is 
no  evidence  that  a  man  has  wings  and  can  fly  because 
a  tornado  puts  its  suction  upon  him,  lifts  him  up,  and 
hurls  him  across  the  street ;  and  it  is  no  evidence  that 
a  man  is  converted  because  a  tremendous  physical  ex- 
citement has  lifted  him  for  a  moment  out  of  the  slough 
of  his  bad  habits,  blown  the  mud  off  of  him,  and 
crazed  him,  so  that  he  talks  and  screams  in  the  lan- 
guage of  virtuous  insanity.  In  a  well-conducted  re- 
vival, where  the  word  of  instruction  is  duly  honored, 
and  not  entirely  supplanted  by  fervid  exhortation ; 
where  the  judgment,  and  not  the  passions,  is  ad- 
dressed ;  where  God  is  heard  in  the  "  still  small  voice," 
and  not  in  the  tempest  and  thunder  of  men's  shout- 
ing ;  where  the  convicted  person  takes  each  step  de- 
liberately, and  only  as  it  is  plainly  perceived  to  be  a 
duty,  — in  a  revival  so  conducted,  I  say,  I  cannot  con- 
ceive that  any  would  be  "  deceived  ;  "  and  the  con- 
verts would  come  into  the  Church  as  buds  and  blos- 
soms come  to  a  tree,  —  because  the  latent  stages  of 
floral  preparation  have  been  experienced,  and  the  houi 
of  revealed  beauty  and  fragrance  has  arrived. 


118  CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP: 

But,  were  this  otherwise,  what  then?  Is  the 
probability  that  a  young  convert,  finding  himself 
"  deceived,"  would  live  the  life  of  an  impious  hypo- 
crite for  forty  years,  a  very  strong  one  ?  Suppose  a 
case.  Should  one  of  these  young  girls  here  discover, 
after  being  for  six  months  a  member  of  the  Church, 
that  she  had  been  mistaken,  and  was  not  a  Christian, 
what  would  she  do  ?  Would  she  dissemble  to  her 
parents  and  friends  ;  meet  her  pastor  with  a  lie  in 
her  mouth;  handle,  season  after  season,  the  sacred 
emblems  of  the  Lord's  Supper  with  impious  hands  ? 
Is  this  probable  ?  nay,  is  it  supposable  ?  The  experi- 
ence of  every  pastor  in  the  land  controverts  this  as- 
sumption. Case  after  case  has  come  to  my  personal 
notice  where  these  "  deceived  "  ones  have  approached 
the  pastor  with  the  story  of  their  wretchedness  ;  and 
being  by  him  more  carefully  instructed  than  they  had 
been  previously,  their  personal  obligation  to  God 
pressed  home  upon  them  as  none  save  a  pastor,  when 
he  stands  in  such  a  position,  can  do,  they  have  fallen 
upon  their  knees,  and  fled  for  refuge  to  Him,  whom  at 
last,  after  many  wanderings,  with  joy  and  the  weep- 
ing of  gladness,  they  have  found. 

I  ask  you  all  to  observe  that  this  theory  of  "  wait- 
ing until  you  see  if  the  converts  will  hold  out  "  is 
based  upon  a  wrong  idea  of  the  Church,  its  nature 
and  object.  It  pictures  the  Church  as  a  place  of  ease 
and  security,  not  of  training  and  effort ;  whereas, 
as  I  conceive,  the  Church  was  never  intended  to  be  a 
kind  of  holy  lounge  for  somnambulent  piety  to  doze 
and  stretch  itself  on,  languidly  waiting  to  be  "  borne 


WHAT   CONSTITUTES  FITNESS  FOR  IT?        H9 

on  angels'  wings  to  heaven,"  but  a  gymnasium  rather, 
furnished  with  all  the  appliances  of  spiritual  exercise, 
and  where,  through  wise  activity,  the  members  are  to 
have  every  power  and  faculty  developed  until  they 
come  to  the  "  measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fulness 
of  Christ."  When  a  person  joins  the  Church,  he  does 
not  seat  himself  in  an  ambulance,  to  remain  until  the 
battle  is  over,  and  then  be  drawn  into  the  city  of  the 
great  King  in  triumph.  No  !  he  takes  a  musket  and 
a  place  in  the  ranks,  and  marches  as  he  is  ordered, 
beaten  on  by  the  burning  heat,  tormented  with  thirst ; 
and  returns  not  to  his  tent  until  the  sun  stoops  to  the 
west,  the  enemy  fly,  and  the  banners,  torn  and  stained 
by  the  lead  and  smoke  of  many  a  previous  fight,  are 
furled  once  more  in  victory. 

The  duty,  then,  resting  upon  every  converted  per- 
son to  publicly  join  the  band  of  Christ's  disciples,  is  as 
plain  and  pressing  as  is  the  duty  of  prayer.  Christ 
himself  commands  it,  the  person's  own  growth  and 
happiness  require  it,  and  the  world  expects  it.  It  is 
the  direct  and  natural  result  of  regeneration,  the  seal 
and  evidence  of  conversion,  and  the  promoting  cause 
of  usefulness. 

As  to  ivhere  you  shall  go,  that  is,  what  church  you 
should  join,  my  advice  is,  Go  where  you  like  to  go. 
This  is  a  matter  of  pure  personal  election.  Consult 
your  judgment  and  your  inclinations  also.  Don't  be 
dragged  nor  pushed.  Because  God's  convincing  and 
convicting  truth  found  you  in  this  church,  it  does  not 
follow  that  you  should  join  us  here.  It  may  be  that 
some  other  pastor  in  this  city  can  feed  you  better 


120  CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP: 

than  I  can  ;  that  some  other  form  of  worship  is  more 
congenial  to  your  taste  than  ours ;  and  that  some 
other  part  of  the  one  great  vineyard  of  which  we  here 
are  but  a  little  corner  can  give  you  work  better  adapt- 
ed to  your  powers  and  your  talents.  Consult,  in 
these  matters,  you  own  judgment,  the  voice  of  your 
nature,  and  the  necessities  of  the  cause.  Go  where 
you  will  have  the  best  spiritual  companionship  ;  go 
where  you  will  be  the  most  profited ;  above  all,  go 
where  you  most  desire  to  go  ;  and,  wherever  you  go, 
stay.  Some  people  are  like  snails :  they  carry  their  spir- 
itual home  around  with  them  on  their  backs.  You 
never  see  them  twice  in  the  same  church.  They  are 
religious  vagabonds,  forever  on  the  move,  and  with- 
out any  fixed  abode.  Nothing  short  of  death  in  their 
family  gives  them  a  pastoral  connection.  It  is  aston- 
ishing how  many  moribund  parishioners  the  pastor  of 
a  city  church  can  have.  This  is  a  wretched  habit ; 
and  nothing  too  severe  can  be  said  in  its  condemna- 
tion. 

At  this  point,  friends,  I  will  pause.  I  have  spoken 
in  explanation  of  the  nature  of  the  Christian  Church, 
and  of  what  constitutes  fitness  for  its  membership.  I 
have  pronounced  against  what  I  regard  as  certain  err- 
ors extant  in  respect  to  the  time  and  the  method  of 
joining  it.  To  me  the  Church  is  not  a  human,  but  a 
divine,  institution.  It  is  not  merely  a  duty,  but  the 
highest  privilege,  to  belong  to  her  communion.  Her 
children  have  been  of  the  purest  and  noblest  of  all 
generations.     Their  devotion  is   the   marvel  of  the 


WHAT  CONSTITUTES  FITNESS  FOR  IT?        121 

ages.  She  has  never  looked  in  vain  for  those  who 
would  die  for  her  truth.  Her  martyrs  have  gone  to 
their  death,  not  reluctantly,  but  as  the  unregenerate 
go  to  coveted  honors.  The  fame  of  her  deeds  and 
her  sufferings  illuminates  history.  For  centuries  she 
stood  as  the  only  bulwark  against  tyranny,  the  sole 
patron  of  art,  the  teacher  of  letters,  and  the  only 
hope  of  mankind.  But  her  brightest  day  has  not  come. 
The  glory  of  her  future  will  be  greater  than  the  fame 
of  her  past.  The  orbit  of  her  sublime  movement  shall 
never  stoop  to  the  horizon-line.  A  perfect  sphere, 
radiant  on  all  sides,  kindling  into  greater  fervor,  like 
the  Olympic  wheels,  as  she  revolves;  more  intense 
and  luminous  as  she  moves  on,  yet  never  exhausting 
the  divine  fervor  within  whence  her  beams  proceed,  — 
the  Church,  greatest  luminary  and  sole  queen  of  the 
moral  heavens,  will  continue  in  majesty  along  her 
course  until  the  vision  of  the  prophet  shall  be  real- 
ized, and  the  Gentiles  shall  come  to  her  light,  and 
kings  to  the  brightness  of  her  rising. 


SABBATH  MORNING,  APRIL  16,  1871. 


SERMON. 


SUBJECT. -THE  RELATION  OF  SALIFICATION  TO  THE  WILL. 

"Work  out  your  own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling."  — 
Phil.  ii.  12. 

IN  the  passage  of  which  the  text  is  a  part,  two 
great  truths  are  stated  and  enforced.  They  lie 
side  by  side  like  two  parallel  ranges  of  mountains 
between  which  runs  the  travelled  road.  On  the  one 
side  is  the  great  fact  of  God's  sovereignty  over  us,  — ■ 
his  power  to  direct  the  judgment,  incline  the  mind, 
and  sway  the  passions  of  men.  It  is  a  vast  and  ma- 
jestic truth,  whose  base  and  summit  no  eye  can  see  ; 
for  its  foundations  are  laid  amid  the  deep  things  of 
God,  and  its  crest  is  seen  only  by  the  ascended.  On 
the  other  side  is  the  co-ordinate  truth  of  man's  sov- 
ereignty over  himself,  less  mysterious,  but  no  less 
worthy  of  attention.  Out  of  it  rises  man's  respon- 
sibility for  his  acts,  and  hence  the  guilt  of  his  miscon- 
duct. On  it  are  predicated  sin  and  the  justice  of  pun- 
ishment. The  two  do  not  conflict.  They  do  not 
intercept  nor  run  counter  to  each  other.  The  expla- 
nation, as  I  apprehend  it,  is  this.  Abstractly  consid- 
ered, God,  in  his  sovereignty,  is  absolute.     There  is 

122 


EELATION  OF  SANCTIFICATION  TO  THE  WILL.  123 

no  bound,  no  limitation,  to  it.  He  speaks,  and  it  is 
done  ;  he  decides,  and  the  decree  is  set.  No  power 
can  withstand  him,  no  mightiness  resist.  His  throne 
is  from  everlasting  to  everlasting,  and  the  words  of 
his  mouth  are  law.  This  is  the  abstract  statement, 
justified  both  by  Scripture  and  the  reason  of  things. 
But,  relatively  considered,  it  is  otherwise.  God,  as 
regards  man,  limits  his  sovereignty.  He  withholds  it 
from  its  ultimate  expression.  He  puts  bounds  to  its 
exercise.  As  it  relates  to  man,  I  say,  there  is  a  sphere 
in  which  it  works,  and  there  is  a  point  beyond  which 
it  does  not  go.  He  does  not  work  irresistibly  in  us  : 
for,  were  it  so,  none  could  "  resist "  him  ;  which  we 
know  is  possible.  He  does  not  carry  his  efficiency  so 
far  as  to  mar  our  authorship  in  our  own  acts ;  else 
would  there  be  no  virtue  in  our  obedience,  and  no 
guilt  in  our  transgression.  When  it  is  said,  therefore, 
that  "  God  worketh  in  us  both  to  will  and  to  do  of 
his  own  good  pleasure,"  it  is  meant  that  he  gives  us 
that  strength,  works  in  us  those  abilities,  requisite  to 
our  willing  and  working.  He  pushes  his  "  working  " 
so  far  as  to  prepare  us  and  assist  us  to  do  either. 
The  fact  fully  stated,  as  I  conceive,  is  this,  —  thatv  we 
can  do  nothing  without  God,  and  he  will  do  nothmg 
without  us.  We  need  his  help  ;  and  he  will  do  noth- 
ing without  the  concurrence  of  our  endeavors.  He 
does  not  will  for  us  ;  he  does  not  act  for  us :  we 
will  and  act  for  ourselves.  Choice  and  election  are 
ours.  We  are  not  like  the  victims  of  superstition, 
who,  bound  hand  and  foot,  are  cast  headlong  into  the 
current.     Our  limbs  are  free  :  we  can  strike  out  for 


124  THE  RELATION  OF  SANCTIFICATION 

either  shore  we  please.  Life  or  death  hangs  on  our 
own  unforced  decision.  The  will  is  inclined ;  but  it 
is  not  dethroned.  A  thousand  motives,  like  angels, 
stand  round  its  footstool.  Their  mouths  are  full  of 
argument,  full  of  entreaty ;  but  the  throne  is  free  to 
decide.  At  death,  each  of  you  will  pass  to  the  bar  of 
God,  and  be  judged  as  one  who  has  been  king  over 
yourself.  The  face  of  Satan  is  black ;  it  is  scarred ; 
it  is  in  ruins  :  but  on  its  dismal  front  sits  royalty,  — 
the  power  to  rule  one's  self,  to  elect  between  the  evil 
and  the  good.  The  star  is  there,  albeit  its  light  is 
quenched  ;  and  its  rays  are  but  the  going-forth  of 
blackness  so  intense  as  to  distinguish  it  amid  the  sur- 
rounding gloom. 

Now,  it  is  upon  the*  subject  of  man's  sovereignty 
over  himself,  or  the  relation  of  the  will  to  our  sanc- 
tification,  that  I  desire  to  speak  this  morning  :  and  I 
do  it  in  the  way  of  explanation  and  warning  to  you 
who  have  recently  been  born  of  the  Spirit,  to  the 
end  that  you  may  not  lapse  in  your  efforts,  nor  fail  in 
such  endeavors  as  are  calculated  to  build  you  up  in 
true  faith  and  holiness.  And  I  do  most  earnestly 
exhort  you  to  listen  to  what  I  shall  say,  and,  by  medi- 
tation upon  it,  take,  in  full  measure,  the  profit  which 
God  may  grant  you,  through  it,  to  receive. 

I  remark,  then,  that  knowledge  is  the  condition  of 
growth.  The  Christian  must  understand  the  doc- 
trines of  the  Bible.  This  position  harmonizes  with 
the  prayer  of  Christ :  "  Sanctify  them  through  Thy 
truth  ;  Thy  word  is  truth."  It  is  not  enough  to  un- 
derstand a  doctrine  in  itself  considered,  and  by  itself: 


TO  THE  WILL.  125 

you  must  understand  it  in  its  relation  to  and  connec- 
tion with  others,  or  you  do  not  understand  it  at  all. 
The  teachings  of  the  Bible  are  chain-like  ;  they  are 
linked  together :  and  to  disconnect  them  by  ignorance 
or  omission  is  to  destroy  that  coherence  in  which  lies 
their  value  and  strength.  Take  the  doctrine  of  re- 
generation, for  instance  :  how  easy  it  is  to  err  in 
reference  to  it !  Many  do  err.  They  make  it  mean 
more  than  it  does  mean.  They  make  it  cover  more 
in  the  scriptural  scheme  than  it  does  cover.  It  means 
being  "  born  again."  A  regenerated  person  is  one 
whose  desires  and  affections  have  been  miraculously 
changed.  A  power  greater  than  his  own  has  been 
at  work  in  him,  and  made  him  in  his  wishes  and  hopes 
other  than  he  was.  In  spirit,  he  is  a  babe  just  de- 
livered. The  breath  of  a  new  and  hitherto  unexpe- 
rienced life  is  in  him  :  he  exists. 

Now,  I  ask  all  these  newly-born  souls  in  Christ  to 
remember  that  they  are  neivly  born,  and  only  born. 
They  are  not  grown.  Their  weakness  is  that  of  a 
babe's.  They  breathe  ;  they  exist ;  the}-  can  take 
nourishment :  beyond  this,  as  yet,  their  strength  is 
not.  Growth,  expansion,  vigor,  maturity,  —  these 
are  states  they  have  not,  as  yet,  reached.  These  will 
come  only  in  time,  and  as  they  use  the  provision  pro- 
vided by  God  through  the  appointed  means  of  grace 
One  will  be  developed  more  rapidly  than  another 
one  arrive  at  a  holy  maturity  sooner  than  another ; 
but  each  will  pass  through  essentially  the  same  pro- 
cess or  ever  he  will  come  to  be  a  full  man  in  Christ 
Regeneration,  then,  is  birth,  and  only  birth.  That  is 
aU. 


12G  THE  RELATION  OF  SANCTIFICATION 

What,  then,  to  put  it  in  another  way,  does  regen- 
eration do  to  a  sinner?  I  reply,  It  cleanses  the 
essence ;  it  purines  the  primal  force  of  the  soul :  but 
it  does  not  change  the  surroundings  or  the  conduct. 
I  will  illustrate  it. 

Take  a  person  who  by  indulgence  of  his  appetites, 
by  unhealthy  diet  and  riotous  courses,  has  vitiated  his 
blood.  He  has  been  a  glutton,  —  a  "  high  liver,"  I 
believe,  is  the  fashionable  term,  —  and  gorged  himself 
daily  to  repletion  ;  or  he  has  been  a  drunkard,  — 
only  he  has  imbibed  in  such  respectable  company 
and  such  costly  liquors,  that  the  police  have  not  dis- 
covered it ;  and  the  result  is,  that  his  "  blood  is  out 
of  condition."  His  veins  swell  with  disease :  they 
are  inflamed  with  the  repressed  violence  of  fever. 
The  vital  current  is  vitiated,  and  labors  in  vain  to 
purge  itself  free  of  its  foulness.  The  physician  is 
summoned.  He  is  skilful.  He  cuts  the  man  down 
in  his  diet ;  brings  relief  to  his  overloaded  stomach  ; 
restores  the  blood  to  its  normal  condition :  the  man 
is  convalescent. 

Now,  what  has  the  physician  done  ?  —  without  the 
patient's  help,  observe.  He  has  purified  his  blood, 
I  respond,  driven  out  the  threatening  fever,  cleansed 
it,  and  restored  the  functions  of  the  body  to  a  healthy 
and  normal  condition.  So  much  he  has  done.  What 
has  he  not  done  ?  He  has  not,  I  reply,  eradicated  the 
causes  of  the  disease  ;  he  has  not  corrected  the  man's 
appetites ;  he  has  not  removed  the  temptation  to 
and  possibility  of  future  indulgence  ;  he  has  not 
made  it  impossible  for  his  patient  to  undo  all  his  bless- 


TO  THE  WILL.  127 

ed  work,  and  become  in  a  year  as  diseased  as  he  was 
when  he  first  found  him. 

Friends,  no  illustration  is  perfect.  One  must  not 
push  analogy  too  far ;  but  this  one  may  help  you  to 
conceive  what  God,  in  the  act  of  regeneration,  does 
and  does  not  do. 

It  is  an  act  of  purification  ;  an  act  of  divine  cleans- 
ing. The  sinner  does  not  assist  at  it :  it  is  God's 
own  unaided  work.  It  purges  out  the  fever  of  sin ; 
it  rectifies  the  spiritual  circulation ;  it  drives  the 
blood  from  the  overcharged  brain,  and  enables  the  man 
to  think  rationally ;  it  corrects  the  judgment  by  re- 
vealing to  the  subject  the  causes  of  danger :  this  it 
does.  But  it  does  not  remove  the  causes  of  danger  ; 
it  does  not  take  the  love  of  liquor  from  the  drunk- 
ard, nor  hot  temper  from  the  passionate,  nor  the 
love  of  money  from  the  miserly,  nor  the  love  of  show 
from  the  vain.  These  elements  of  character,  these 
habits  of  mind,  remain,  — remain  in  all  their  force,  to 
be  fought  and  wrestled  with,  and  overcome  at  last, 
like  a  long-armed  and  stout-backed  foe,  by  the  best 
effort  of  our  power. 

When  a  soul,  therefore,  is  born  unto  Christ,  it  is 
born  unto  battle,  —  battle  with  itself.  Christ  has 
come  to  it,  not  to  bring  peace,  but  a  sword,  —  a  sword 
that  shall  smite  and  cleave.  Passion  and  appetite 
and  lust  shall  each  oppose  its  sweep,  and  each  in  turn 
feel  its  descending  edge.  In  regeneration  was  born, 
not  holiness,  but  a  desire  to  be  holy ;  and  even  this 
desire  was  at  first  feeble.  Time  adds  to  its  height  and 
girth ;  deepens  and  intensifies  it,  until  it  becomes  a 


128  THE  RELATION  OF  SANCTIFICATION 

strong  and  deathless  yearning,  crying  night  and  day 
for  that  which  can  alone  satisfy  it,  like  a  mother  for 
her  lost  child ;  yea,  and  will  not  be  content  until  it 
has  its  arms  around  the  hope  of  its  life.  Sweet  is  it 
to  be  born ;  sweet  is  the  light  to  opening  eyes  that 
dimly  see  the  glory;  sweet  the  first  breath  fra- 
grant with  the  mother's  instinctive  kiss  ;  sweet  to 
the  new-born  is  the  sense  of  touch,  and  all  the  sights 
and  sounds  of  this  delightful  world:  but  sweeter 
far  the  after-growth,  the  deepening  and  ever-widen- 
ing life,  the  apprehension  of  added  force,  the  sense 
of  gathering  power  deep-heaving  as  the  sea,  the 
dignity  of  poise  and  balance  well  sustained,  the  free 
unchecked  thought,  the  mind  expanded,  and  a  soul 
standing  proudly  on  its  consciousness  like  a  perfect 
statue  on  its  broad  and  well-adjusted  pedestal.  I  re- 
call the  hour  in  which  spiritually  I  was  born  ;  the  rush 
of  exquisite  sensations,  and  the  deep,  trance-like  peace : 
and  yet  that  was,  as  I  now  know,  an  infantile  mode 
of  life,  and  an  infantile  experience.  What  Christian 
of  any  years,  here  to-day,  would  exchange  this  hour 
for  the  first  of  his  Christian  life  ?  Who  would  cast 
aside  the  knowledge  of  himself  and  of  God's  word 
which  the  years  of  striving  and  study  have  brought 
him  ?  —  who  surrender  his  clear  views  of  duty,  the 
fixed  resolve,  the  unwavering  faith,  the  immovable 
hope,  the  purified  imagination,  the  confirmed  virtue, 
and  all  the  victories  over  sin  that  he  has  won,  for  the 
childlike  and  fleeting  sensation  of  that  natal  period  ? 
Not  one.  The  day  is  better  than  the  dawn  ;  and  bet- 
ter yet  the  warm  decline,  —  the  sky  of  tempered  blue 


TO  THE  WILL.  129 

unvexed  by  clouds ;  the  peaceful  passing  of  a  well- 
rounded  and  perfect  life,  bathed  in  the  glory  of  the 
next  even  before  it  has  passed  the  line  of  this  present 
life. 

Not  only  is  sanctification  in  its  experience  and  re- 
sult better  than  regeneration  ;  not  only  is  the  life  of 
holiness  better  than  the  birth  thereto ;  not  only  is  it 
a  process  closely  connected  with  our  own  effort ;  but 
it  is  in  development  gradual,  and  in  order  step  by  step. 

Holiness  is  not  instantaneous ;  it  is  not  arbitrarily 
wrought  out  in  us  by  the  Spirit :  it  is  a  result 
reached  through  a  conjunction  of  the  divine  influence 
with  our  own  endeavors.  Entrance  through  the 
"  strait  gate  "  comes  through  "  striving."  Our  salva- 
tion is  "  worked  out."  We  are  not  merely  recipients 
of  the  divine  favor,  but  co-laborers  with  the  Divine 
Person.  The  person  who  does  no  more  than  pray 
for  holiness  will  never  make  a  holy  prayer.  God 
clothes  and  feeds  us  spiritually,  as  he  does  physically, 
through  our  own  exertions,  and  in  no  other  way. 
He  who  forgets  this  may  force  his  way  into  the  mar- 
riage-feast ;  but  he  will  be  in  the  same  plight  as  was 
he  who  stood  with  no  wedding-garment  on. 

Not  only  is  sanctification  gradual,  but  there  is  also 
a  certain  order  in  which  it  is  accomplished ;  and  the 
order  is  this :  The  strongest  evil  passion  or  inclination 
first.  If  a  man  is  a  drunkard,  and  he  is  converted, 
the  first  thing  he  wages  war  with  is  his  appetite  for 
liquor.  This  is  his  nearest  and  deadliest  foe  ;  and  he 
naturally  grapples  first  with  that.  If  he  has  been  a 
man  profane  in  speech,  he  sets  himself  to  fight  this 

6* 


130  THE  RELATION  OF  SANCTIFICATION 

habit  before  all  others.  He  may  have  other  evil 
habits  ;  but  the  order  of  sanctification  is,  the  greatest 
sin  first.  A  dozen  serpents  may  be  in  his  path  ;  but 
that  one  whose  fangs  are  already  in  his  flesh,  and 
whose  deadly  coil  is  around  his  limb,  is  the  one  he 
clutches  and  tears  away  first.  And  thus  the  fight 
goes  on.  One  sin  at  a  time,  one  evil  habit  after  an- 
other, —  each  calling  for  a  separate  decision,  a  distinct 
act  of  the  will, — is  dealt  with,  his  strength  growing 
with  each  effort,  until  what  at  first  was  hard  becomes 
easy,  and  the  will,  educated  by  its  own  action  against 
evil,  grows  antagonistic  to  it,  and,  in  such  antagonism, 
harmonizes  with  God's. 

Holiness  is  then,  as  you  see,  the  result  of  growth. 
The  soul  has  its  gradations  and  processes  of  expansion : 
its  unfolding  is  slow,  and  regulated  by  the  welLascer- 
tained  law  of  cause  and  effect.  Nature  is  full  of 
analogies  to  represent  this.  Take  a  water-luy.  Did 
you  ever  lie  on  a  bank,  or  sit  in  a  boat,  and  see  one 
ripen  and  expand  from  the  bulbous  state  into  the 
full  dazzling  glory  of  perfect  bloom  ?  At  first,  it  lies 
upon  the  water  a  light-green  lobe,  —  close,  compact, 
the  edges  of  its  yet-to-be-developed  leaves  seamless, 
entire ;  a  floral  cocoon,  within  whose  dark,  dun  sides 
is  prisoned  a  future  beauty  beyond  the  splendor  of 
golden-tinted  wings.  At  length,  the  light,  close  case 
begins  to  swell ;  the  glued  leaves  let  go  their  hold 
each  on  the  other ;  and  a  pale,  whitish  streak  marks 
where  their  bands  are  loosened.  Still  more  the  buoy- 
like bulb  expands  ;  the  vital  germ,  clamoring  for  the 
sun,  presses  against  its  sides ;  until,  the  green  incase- 


TO  THE  WILL.  131 

ment,  distended  almost  into  a  sphere,  unable  longer 
to  endure  the  pressure,  bursts  at  the  top ;  the  parted 
sections  fall  back  upon  the  water ;  and  the  white  globe 
of  almond-pointed  leaves,  with  its  rich  heart  of  gold, 
floats  languidly  upon  the  tide.     Prodigal  of  its  sweet- 
ness, it  yields  its  perfume  freely  to  the  passing  breeze  ; 
and  the  scented  wind,  gladly  bearing  so  sweet  a  bur- 
den, wafts  it  abroad,  leaving  upon  the  air  a  fragrant 
trail.     In  this  picture  of  floral  development  you  see 
the  portraiture  of  that  expansion  which  in  the  soul 
transpires  under  divine  processes   and  management ; 
for,  like  the  lily,  the  soul  at  first  lies  compact  in  self- 
ishness, devoid  of  perfume  or  any  feature  of  loveliness, 
yet  capable  of  both.     At  last,  the  heavens  warm  to- 
ward it,  and  a  germ  divinely  planted  within  aspires 
to  grow.    Then  yearnings  are  felt ;  struggles  and  con- 
tests with  what  represses  it  occur.     The  hard,  tough 
in  casements  of  worldliness  yield  slowly  and  sullenly 
to  the  pressure  of  spiritual  forces  within.     Yet  more 
and  more  uplifted  by  thoughts  of  its  immortality, 
borne  upward  also  as  birds  upon  a  current  of  air  by 
the  wind-like  Spirit,  the  soul  longs  for  and  soars  nearer 
to  God.     Down  into  it  from  above  continually,  come 
brightness  and  warmth,  ineffable,  genial.    It  clamors 
for  freedom.    It  presses  against  the  sides  of  its  prison. 
It  refuses  to  be  pent  up,  contracted,  fettered,  by  it* 
sins.     It  yearns  for  light  and  warmth  and  the  free 
air  of  heaven.     It  persists ;  it  wins  :  and  the  sancti- 
fied soul,  white  as  a  lily  at  last,  with  the  blood  of 
Christ  for  its  heart,  fragrant  with  the  impartments  of 
grace,  bursts  the  coherence  of  its  sins,  and  floats  in 


132  THE   RELATION  OF  SANCTIFICATION 

the  beauty  of  holiness  on  the  "  river  of  life."  Remem- 
ber, therefore,  all  you  who  are  now  but  so  recently 
born  into  the  new  birth,  that  you  are  born,  not  into  the 
state  of  holiness,  but  into  the  state  of  growth  in  holi- 
ness, and  a  state  of  effort  for  it.  You  are  not  ripe  as 
yet :  you  are  only  ripening.  You  are  not  in  flower, 
expanded,  tinted,  fragrant :  you  are  in  the  bud,  and 
will  come  forward  only  as  the  season  advances,  and 
the  days  of  deepening  warmth  are  multiplied  in  genial 
succession. 

In  this  process  of  moral  advancement,  in  which  the 
soul  marches  from  one  battle-field  to  another,  and 
from  one  victory  to  another,  in  which  each  day  is 
one  of  conflict,  and  each  night  demands. vigilance  of 
the  will,  the  determining  power  of  the  mind  is  a 
prime  actor.  God  inclines  the  Christian  to  decide 
rightly  ;  but  our  decisions  are  in  every  sense  our  own. 
He  reveals  to  us  the  right  and  the  wrong  in  conduct, 
and  there  leaves  us.  He  makes  the  tender  ;  but  we 
accept  or  reject  in  absolute  independence  of  action. 
Volition  is  unhampered.  Decision  prompt  and  un- 
hesitating, on  our  part,  is  imperative.  He  who  leaves 
off  a  bad  habit  does  it  in  the  free  exercise  of  his  own 
power.  Each  virtue  attained  comes  in  the  way  of 
voluntary  election.  You  who  are  young  in  years  and 
inexperienced  in  the  Christian  life  should  bear  this 
well  in  mind.  Prayers  will  never  make  }^ou  holy  ; 
longing  will  never  maintain  your  virtue  ;  dreamy 
desires  will  never  push  on  your  reformation.  Evil 
will  come  with  its  enticements  and  solicitations :  and 
God  will  not  decide  for  you ;  he  will  not  shield  you 


TO  THE  WILL.  133 

from  the  pressure  of  its  invitation.  You  your- 
self must  "  overcome  evil ;  "  you  yourself  must  say, 
"  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan  !  "  When  the  Spirit  be- 
got you,  you  were  born  to  be  a  warrior.  You  were 
conceived  of  God  as  a  contestant.  Your  attitude  as 
a  Christian  is  martial,  and  your  career  is  that  of  a 
soldier.  All  this  is  but  a  paraphrase  of  Scripture,  and 
should  be  taken  in  all  its  literal  significance.  When 
a  man  is  tempted  to  cheat,  he  must  knit  himself  up, 
and  say,  "  I  will  not  do  it."  When  profanity  jumps 
to  his  tongue  as  a  tiger  at  the  door  of  his  cage,  he 
must  sink  the  bolts  of  reticence  into  their  sockets, 
and  hold  the  ugly  thing  in.  When  sin  of  any  kind 
or  degree  approaches  him  seductively,  he  must  rally 
all  the  forces  of  his  manhood,  recall  his  vows,  bring 
up  in  remembrance  his  covenant,  and  face  it ;  meeting 
it  squarely,  eye  to  eye,  without  flinching,  until  its  con- 
fidence, which  was  based  on  his  supposed  weakness, 
departs  at  the  sight  of  his  boldness,  overawed  and 
intimidated  by  the  God-like  integrity  of  his  soul. 
This  was  the  Saviour's  method, — the  way  in  which  he 
treated  temptation  ;  nor  will  any  ever  find  a  better.  I 
have  no  faith  in  the  monastic  conception  of  holiness, 
its  cause  and  security.  I  do  not  believe  that  mason- 
ry of  granite,  and  doors  of  iron,  can  shut  out  tempta- 
tion. Temptation  is  in  us  ;  and  you  might  as  well  ex- 
pect to  fence  a  man  from  the  impurities  of  his  own 
blood  as  from  the  seductive  tendencies  of  his  sinful 
disposition.  The  mind  makes  its  own  sins,  and  the 
offspring  are  of  the  color  and  character  of  the  parent. 
The  "  warfare  "  of  which  Paul  speaks  is  not  a  de- 


134  THE  RELATION  OF  SANCTIFICATION 

fensive,  but  an  offensive,  warfare.  The  Christian's 
security  lies  in  the  suddenness  and  fierceness  with 
which  he  attacks  his  foe.  He  can  never  pitch  his 
tent,  and  unharness,  while  an  enemy  remains  alive  on 
the  field  ;  which  field  is  his  own  sin-possessed  nature. 
Then  shall  he  have  rest  from  his  labors,  and  not  until 
then.  Then  shall  peril  to  him  be  passed;  the  neces- 
sity of  conflict  gone  forever  with  his  sin  ;  and,  con- 
queror at  last  over  himself,  at  peace  with  his  con- 
science and  with  his  God,  he  joins  the  company 
of  those  who  have  fought  the  good  fight,  who  have 
finished  the  course,  who  have  kept  the  faith. 

You  see,  at  this  point,  just  where  the  danger  lies 
against  which  I  warn  you  to-cky.  Half  the  attempts 
men  make  at  reformation  are  only  attempts.  They 
are  like  boys,  who,  being  on  the  wrong  side  of  a 
stream,  gather  themselves  for  the  spring,  but  do  not 
jump.  They  do  every  thing  but  do.  They  feel  that 
their  conduct  is  wrong  ;  that  a  certain  habit  is  evil : 
and  they  decide  to  change,  and  leave  it  off;  but  they 
do  not  leave  it  off.  They  keep  saying  to  themselves, 
"  This  is  a  wrong  course  I  am  pursuing  ;  I  will  stop, 
and  turn  about : "  and,  all  the  while,  they  continue 
to  walk  straight  on  in  the  same  evil  way.  There  are, 
I  fear,  scores  of  Christians  in  the  churches  to-day  who 
are  living  in  sin,  not  because  they  are  not  convinced 
that  it  is  sin,  not  because  they  have  no  desires  to  live 
more  holy  lives,  —  for  knowledge  and  desire  are  unto 
them,  —  but  simply  and  solely  because  they  will  not 
exert  their  will ;  because  they  do  not  put  the  brakes 
of  resolution  upon  the  flying  wheels  of  their  natural 


TO  THE  WILL.  135 

tendencies ;  because  they  will  not  by  one  noble  re- 
solve make  a  sacrifice  of  their  selfishness. 

This  view  it  is  which  teaches  us  that  we  are  re- 
sponsible for  our  non-growth  in  holiness.     Our  guilt 
is  the  guilt  of  weakness,  too  indolent  to  exercise  itself 
into  vigor;  of  poverty,  that  seeks  not  to  better  its 
condition ;    of  the  starving,  that  refuse   food.     The 
same  measure  of  effort  that  men  put  forth  in  carnal 
directions,  exerted  in  spiritual,  would  make  them  all 
saints.     God  is  responsible  for  the  thoroughness  of 
our  regeneration.     A  vital  germ  must  be  implanted, 
a  birth  must  actually  occur  in  the   soul,  or  else   the 
Spirit's  power  is  not  experienced.    On  the  other  hand, 
we  are  responsible  for  the  utmost  honesty  of  effort, 
the  fullest  measure  of  endeavor,  and  the  constant  use 
of  every  help  given  us  of  God  to  go  forward  from 
knowledge  to  knowledge,  and  grace  to  grace. 

I  have  thus  far  discussed  what  might  be  regarded 
as  the  principles  of  the  subject.  We  will  now  pro- 
ceed to  the  application. 

Have  we,  as  Christians,  sufficiently  discerned  the 
intimate  connection  between  the  determining  faculty 
of  our  mind  and  our  sanctification  ?  Have  we  been 
striving  to  purify  our  affections  without  using  the 
solely-appointed  means  ?  It  may  be  that  some  of  you 
have  laid  every  power  and  faculty  at  the  feet  of  God 
save  your  power  to  will  and  decide  :  you  have  conse- 
crated all  but  that.  You  are  in  the  condition  of  ships 
whose  every  rope  is  in  its  proper  place ;  every  spar 
and  sail  duly  set,  and  blown  upon  by  what  would  be 


136  THE  RELATION  OF   SANCTIFICATION 

a  favoring  breeze  if  they  were  judiciously  steered :  but 
not  one  of  them  has  its  rudder  shipped !  They  are 
baffled  about ;  they  sail  in  circles ;  they  make  no 
progress,  because  they  are  deprived  of  their  helms. 
And  so  it  is  in  the  case  of  many  Christians.  Their 
desires  are  all  right ;  their  longings  proper  ;  their 
hopes  all  face  heavenward ;  their  pra}rers  are  con- 
stant :  and  yet  they  are  not  sanctified ;  they  make, 
as  they  feel,  little  if  any  progress  in  holiness ;  and  the 
reason  is,  because  the  helm-like  faculty,  the  directing, 
controlling,  and  authoritative  power  of  their  minds, 
the  will,  is  not  utilized  for  God.  Friends,  this,  as  you 
must  all  see,  is  a  fatal  mistake.  Many  remain  in 
bondage,  many  in  peril.  Many  walk  day  by  day 
along  the  edge  of  possible  disaster,  pushed  against  at 
every  step  they  take  by  temptation,  who  can  never 
deliver  themselves  until  they  realize  what  a  divine 
efficiency  there  is  at  times  in  that  little  word  No. 
Prayers  will  not  save  them ;  neither  tears,  nor  groans, 
nor  the  agonies  of  an  upbraiding  conscience,  nor  the 
advice  of  many,  can  save  them.  Their  own  decision, 
driven  spear-like  to  the  very  vitals  of  the  sin,  trans- 
fixing it,  will  alone  deliver  them  from  their  torment 
and  their  danger. 

And  now,  friends,  let  us  be  honest  toward  our- 
selves. Let  us  take  up,  each  for  himself,  in  his  own 
hand,  veiling  its  beams  under  his  mantle,  the  torch 
of  personal  examination,  and  go  down  alone,  unac- 
companied by  any,  into  the  cellar  of  our  natures.  No 
one  has  the  right  to  accompany  us  there.  Inspect 
every  nook  and  corner,  and  find  whatever  venomous 


TO  THE  WILL.  137 

thing  lurks  within  that  hitherto-unvisited  darkness, 
and  flash  the  light  full  on  its  deadly  coil.  Having 
found  it,  beat  down  with  all  your  force  upon  its  head, 
and  kill  it.  Let  it  no  more  be  in  you,  but  be  cast 
utterly  away  from  you.  If  you  have  wills,  if  you 
are  not  weaklings  and  incapables,  use  them,  hence- 
forth at  least,  for  God.  But  you  say,  "  I  have  many 
sins,  not  merely  one  :  it  seems  to  me  as  if  my  nature 
is  alive  with  them.  I  feel  their  movements  in  me  ; 
and  I  see  their  traces  everywhere."  I  do  not  doubt 
it.  But  is  there  not  some  one  taller  and  stouter  than 
all  his  fellows,  some  unbruised  sin,  brawny  and  sup- 
ple, which  you  have  failed  to  attack  as  yet  ?  —  some 
one  sin,  I  say,  more  subtle,  more  insidious,  more  vile 
and  polluting,  than  all  beside,  which,  were  you  well 
rid  of,  would,  on  the  instant,  make  you  a  nobler  man 
or  a  purer  woman  than  you  are  ?  If  so,  that  is  the 
sin  God  makes  just  now,  at  this  time,  more  than  ever 
your  duty  to  attack.  Now  is  your  mind  enlightened, 
your  conscience  quickened,  your  will  braced.  Lay 
hold  of  it,  then ;  take  it  by  the  throat,  and  choke  the 
life  out  of  it.  If  you  want  help,  if  you  shrink,  and 
desire  an  inspiration,  I  will  give  it  you.  Look  unto 
Jesus  ;  ay,  look  into  his  face,  —  the  face  of  Him  who 
was  in  all  points  tempted  as  you  are ;  upon  which  sits, 
as  a  crown  upon  the  forehead  of  a  god,  the  majesty 
of  one  who  has  overcome.  Look  unto  him,  and 
strength  shall  come  to  you.  Your  will  will  feel  the 
moving  of  a  mighty  power  within  it ;  your  heart  will 
leap ;  your  face  will  flush  as  the  heart  and  face  of 
one  who  has  made  a  great  discovery ;  and  you  will  say 


138    BELATION  OF  SANCTIFICATION  TO  THE  WILL. 

with  the  old  Pauline  hopefulness  of  speech,  "  Lo,  I 
can  do  all  things  through  Christ  that  strengtheneth 
me." 

But  is  sanctification  the  result  of  disciplinary  pro- 
cesses alone  ?  Is  it  ever  instantaneous  ?  ever  given  in 
answer  to  prayer  made  efficient  by  the  measure  of 
the  prompting  faith  that  shrinks  not  from  the  asking  ? 
My  friends,  I  know  not  how  to  answer  this  ;  but  I 
would  fain  think  that  it  might  so  come.  Once  or 
twice  I  have  thought  I  felt  it ;  but  whether  I  was  de- 
ceived, or  whether  I  could  not  retain  it,  I  know  not. 
But,  for  the  moment,  earth  seemed  like  heaven  ;  and 
within  me  I  felt  the  peace  that  passeth  all  under- 
standing. But,  howsoever  it  may  come,  we  all,  who 
are  in  Christ,  wait  for  it,  —  wait  in  hope,  not  failing  to 
make  every  effort  while  effort  is  possible.  By  and  by, 
when  we  lie  in  the  transition,  and  the  gray  veil  that 
no  mortal  hand  may  ever  lift  is  setting  slowly  and 
softly  over  us,  and  the  sounds  of  the  earth  die  out, 
and  its  sights  fade,  God  grant  that  then,  at  least,  it 
may  come  to  us;  come  as  the  sense  of  power  and 
rapture  comes  to  a  bird  in  its  first  flight;  come  as 
of  old  voice  came  to  the  dumb,  whose  lips  quivered 
into  speech  at  the  word  of  Christ ;  and  on  the  wings 
of  its  coming,  and  made  vocal  by  it,  our  souls  shall 
soar  and  sing  forever ! 


SABBATH  MOBJfLKQ,  APRIL  33,  1871. 


SERMON. 


SUBJECT. -CHRIST  THE  DELIVERER, 

"  Stand  fast,  therefore,  in  the  liberty  wherewith  Christ  hath 
made  us  free  j  and  be  not  entangled  again  with  the  yoke  of  bond- 
AGE."—Gal.  V.  1. 

I  RARELY  enter  upon  the  preparation  of  a  ser- 
mon, of  late,  without  pausing  to  reflect  upon  the 
manifold  mercies  that  God  has  visited  upon  us  as  a 
church  during  the  last  year.  For  outward  prosper- 
ity, for  peace  and  love  among  ourselves,  —  truest 
evidence  of  the  Spirit's  presence,  —  for  that  sweet 
fellowship  in  Christ  found  only  in  faithful  co-opera- 
tion, I  yield  him  with  bowed  head  the  humble  recog- 
nition of  my  gratitude.  But  above  these  causes  of 
joy  is  that  found  in  the  conversion  of  many  souls  to 
Jesus.  This  is  to  the  others  what  the  full-blown  rose 
is  to  its  stalk,  —  the  ornament  and  crown  of  its  growth, 
the  fragrant  proof  and  expression  of  the  supporting 
life  beneath. 

The  great  and  foremost  desire  of  my  heart  toward 
you  newly-gained  disciples  of  Christ  is,  that  you  ma}' 
become  useful  disciples.  I  desire  that  you  have  right 
views  of  God,  out  of  which  alone  come  right  views 

139 


140  CHRIST  THE  DELIVERER. 

of  duty.  I  desire  that  you  understand  the  difference 
between  your  present  condition  and  that  from  which 
you  have  been  delivered,  to  the  end  that  you  may  be 
happy  and  hopeful  Christians,  honoring  God  by  your 
entire  confidence,  and  advertising  religion  as  a  joy  and 
comfort  by  your  rejoicing.  Every  Christian  should 
make  his  religion  appear  so  desirable,  that  all  his 
friends  and  acquaintances  should  desire  it.  I  wish,  in 
this  discourse,  to  assist  you  to  realize  your  indebted- 
ness to  Christ ;  to  see  what  he  has  done  for  you,  that 
he  may  appear  excellent  and  amiable  in  your  eyes,  — 
"  the  chiefest  among  ten  thousand,  and  the  one  alto- 
gether lovely : "  for  I  know  that  out  of  the  sense  of 
great  benefits  received  will  spring  up  in  your  hearts 
a  great  love  for  the  benefactor. 

I  am  to  speak  of  Christ  as  a  deliverer ;  and  I  shall 
mention  four  types  of  bondage  from  which  he  delivers 
his  followers,  and  what  he  substitutes  in  the  place  of 
each. 

The  first  form  of  slavery  that  I  shall  mention  from 
which  Christ  delivers  man  is  ceremonial  observances. 

There  has  been,  in  all  ages,  a  strong  tendency  on 
the  part  of  those  to  whom  religious  matters  were  in- 
trusted to  multiply  ceremonies.  Formalism  has  ever 
been  the  deadliest  foe  of  piety.  Ritualism  has  built 
up  barrier  after  barrier  between  the  soul  and  God. 
The  ingenuity  of  man  has  been  taxed  to  multiply  im- 
pediments in  the  path  of  man's  approach  to  the  Deity. 
The  symbol  has  ever  been  thrust  between  the  inquir- 
ing eye  and  the  Being  symbolized,  and  hence  all  prog- 
ress toward   a  true   understanding  of  God  checked. 


CHRIST  THE   DELIVERER.  141 

Not  only  so  ;  but  cruelty  of  every  form  has  been  prac- 
tised under  the  sanction  of  these  elaborate  systems 
of  men's  device.     You  see  the  reason  of  this.     Where 
forms   are   many,  where  the  machinery  is  complex, 
where   the   ceremony  is  imposing,   where  the  tradi- 
tion is  dim,  human  instrumentality  is  requisite  ;  the 
priest,  the  interpreter,  is  endowed  with  solemn   and 
imposing  functions.     He  who  moves  the  pageant,  he 
who  holds  the  key  to  divine  favor,  who  has  the  ear 
of  God,  is   clothed  with   a   dignity,  an   importance, 
a  sanctity,  which  would  not  otherwise  be  ascribed  to 
him.     Where,  as  a  mere  man,  he  would  be  rejected 
and  denounced  as   an  impostor,  as  a   priest,  as  the 
vicegerent  of  God,  as  the  mediator,  he  is  respected 
and  feared.     Back  of  him  is  a  terrible  power;   and 
men  must  do  his  bidding.     If  he  asks  for  "  money," 
money  is  given ;    if  he   demands    "  chastity,"  chas- 
tity is  surrendered ;  if  he  even  says  "  life,"  the  dev- 
otee mounts  the  funeral-p}Tre,  or  bares  his  breast  to 
the  sacrificial  knife.     No  greater  curse  has  the  world 
seen  than  ritualism.     It  has  prolonged  grosser  igno- 
rance,   prevented    more    progress,    been    parent   of 
more  bigotry,  smothered  more  piety,  than  any  other 
enemy  of  the  soul. 

But,  when  Christ  is  made  known  to  the  mind,  all 
this  is  swept  away.  There  was  nothing  he  so  despised 
when  on  the  earth  as  formalism.  The  ritualists  of 
his  day  met  with  no  mercy  at  his  hand.  He  charged 
them  with  being  hypocrites,  who  bound  burdens 
grievous  to  be  borne  upon  men's  backs,  which  they 
would  not  touch  even  with  their  finger.     He  said  to 


142  CHRIST  THE   DELIVERER. 

them,  "  Ye  block  up  the  gate  of  heaven  against  men, 
in  that  ye  neither  go  in  yourselves,  nor  suffer  others 
to  enter."  He  charged  them  with  making  the  Scrip- 
tures of  none  effect  through  their  traditions.  When 
Christ  came,  he  levelled  every  barrier  between  the 
soul  and  God.  He  told  his  disciples  to  "  call  no  man 
master  save  God  alone."  He  cut  every  cord  with 
which  the  pride  and  arrogance  of  men  had  meshed 
the  soul,  and  gave  it  liberty  to  mount  heavenward  as 
a  dove  escaped  from  the  snare  of  the  fowler.  There 
is  not  a  person  in  the  world,  where  Christ  is  known, 
but  that  can  go  directly  to  God,  and,  in  his  own  per- 
son, present  his  petition.  Access  to  the  throne  is 
free  ;  the  path  is  open  and  wide  ;  and  we  can  all  en- 
ter the  innermost  room  of  our  Father's  palace  un- 
challenged. 

Another  release  that  Christ  brings  to  the  believer's 
soul  is  a  release  from  law. 

The  Old  Testament  is  law.  It  is  one  vast  system 
of  legislation  :  penalty,  penalty,  everywhere.  It  was 
law,  not  in  general,  but  in  detail.  It  held  sway  not 
only  over  the  soul,  but  over  the  body  also.  It  told  a 
man  what  he  should  eat  and  drink,  whom  he  should 
love  and  hate,  whom  protect,  and  whom  destroy.  It 
went  as  a  spy  into  the  most  intimate  and  confidential 
relations  of  life ;  dictated  affection  and  marriage, 
child-bearing,  and  domestic  intercourse.  It  treated 
men  as  mere  children.  Paul  says  the  "  law  was  our 
schoolmaster."  And  well  did  it  deserve  the  title, 
in  one  respect  at  least;  for  dictation  and  the  rod  were 
everywhere.    But  observe  further.     Note  what  neces- 


CHRIST  THE  DELIVERER.  143 

sarily  grows  out  of  such  a  system.  Where  law  is, 
there  must  be  officers  to  execute  it ;  there,  too,  are 
police  regulations  and  the  detestable  habit  of  espi- 
onage, and  all  the  entanglements,  the  mortifications, 
the  terror,  which  follow  in  the  train  of  complex  and 
severe  legislation, — a  legislation  which  seeks  to  gov- 
ern personal  habits,  and  shape  personal  character. 

Moreover,  such  legislation  is  not  only  tyrannical, 
but  it  is  also  inefficient :  there  is  nothing  in  law  which 
quickens  and  enlarges  the  nature,  and  grows  it  up  into 
the  state  of  self-government.  Law,  from  beginning 
to  end,  means  repression.  It  appeals  to  fear.  Its 
agent  is  force.  Not  only  so,  but  it  addresses  itself 
only  to  the  acts.  It  leaves  untouched,  unchanged, 
perhaps,  the  great  realm  of  motives.  It  has  no  power 
to  regenerate  the  character.  Judge  the  system  by 
its  fruits.  How  few  characters  in  Old-Testament  his- 
tory that  are  worthy  of  imitation  !  How  few  appear 
in  radiance  above  the  dark  level  of  their  times !  Our 
average  is  better  than  their  best.  David  and  Solo- 
mon would  have  forfeited  their  church  relation  had 
that  relation  been  Christian,  and  not  Jewish.  Yet 
they  are,  in  some  respects,  the  best  representatives  of 
the  system  under  which  they  lived :  they  type  its 
power  to  reform  character  ;  they  illustrate  the  limi- 
tations and  the  feebleness  of  any  legal,  any  primitive 
regulation  to  assist  in  the  development  of  man's  na- 
ture. 

But  Christ  came,  and  all  this  was  changed.  Not 
mere  obedience,  but  love,  was  made  the  fulfilment  of 
the  law.     The  divine  law  had  appealed  to  fear,  and 


144  CHRIST  THE   DELIVERER. 

proved  its  origin  by  supernatural  exhibitions  of  power. 
The  divine  Person  appealed  to  love,  —  "  If  ye  love  me, 
ye  will  keep  my  commandments,"  —  and  proved  his 
origin  by  supernatural  exhibitions  of  mercy.  Christ, 
it  is  true,  did  not  annul  the  law  ;  not  a  jot  or  tittle  of 
it  was  abrogated :  but  he  came  to  show  men,  and  he 
did  show  men,  a  new  and  better  way  to  fulfil  it,  by 
making  obedience  easy.  The  yoke  had  been  galling, 
and  the  burden  heavy  ;  but  he  assured  them  that  his 
yoke  was  easy,  and  his  burden  light.  The  New  Tes- 
tament appeals  to  a  class  of  motives  the  Old  paid 
little  regard  to,  or  left  entirely  unnoticed.  Through 
it,  the  Father,  and  not  the  Judge,  speaks.  Christ  ban- 
ished fear  from  the  list  of  agents  on  which  he  was  to 
rely.  "  Ye  are  no  longer  servants"  said  he  to  his 
disciples  :  "  ye  are  friends"  A  servant  is  subject  to 
commands ;  and  those  commands  can  be  enforced 
against  him  in  case  of  his  disobedience :  but  you  can- 
not threaten,  you  cannot  punish,  a  friend ;  yet  a 
friend  will  do  more  for  you  than  a  servant.  That  is, 
the  class  of  motives  which  friendship  acknowledges 
is  a  stronger,  more  efficient  class  than  that  which  mere 
legal  obligation  begets.  You  see  how  much  higher 
and  deeper,  how  much  more  profound,  how  much  more 
efficient,  is  the  philosophy  of  the  New  Testament  than 
is  that  of  the  Old.  Test  them  by  their  respective  re- 
sults. Compare  the  average  character  of  Christians 
now  with  the  average  character  of  the  Jews  in  their 
best  days.  See  what  love  has  done,  and  then  com- 
pare it  with  what  law  did. 

The  reason,  friends,  that  I  object  so  strenuously  to 


CHRIST  THE   DELIVERER.  145 

such  representations  of  Christianity  as  shall  make  it 
to  be  only  a  new  edition  of  Judaism,  the  reason  I 
avoid  making  appeals  to  men's  fears  when  urging 
them  to  accept  of  the  gospel  plan  of  salvation  and 
life,  is  because  I  feel  that  such  a  course  does  not  pre- 
sent the  strongest  motives  that  can  be  brought  to  bear 
upon  men's  minds.  Such  a  method  of  preaching  is 
wrong,  looking  at  it  from  the  standpoint  of  influence. 
It  is  substituting  lower  for  higher  motives,  weaker 
for  stronger,  transient  for  permanent.  It  is  an  at- 
tempt to  put  the  chains  of  the  Old-Testament  motive 
upon  men ;  to  drive  the  old  and  once  bloody  but  now 
discarded  goad  of  compulsion  into  them-.  It  does,  in 
fact,  Judaize  Christianity,  and  bury  Calvary  beneath 
the  debris  of  Sinai.  A  message  that  frightens  and 
terrifies  men  is  not  "glad  news;"  and  no  adroitly- 
turned  exhortation  can  make  it  appear  as  such.  Some 
men  preach  as  if  they  were  responsible  for  the  con- 
version of  the  world ;  whereas  all  they  are  responsi- 
ble for  is  a  truthful  and  candid  presentation  of  divine 
truth.  If  I  may  only  unfold  the  love  of  God  for  you, 
my  people  ;  if  I  can  only  present  Christ  to  you  in  such 
a  way  that  you  can  understand  the  feelings  of  your 
heavenly  Father,  and  how  the  Saviour  lived  and  died 
for  you ;  if  I  can  only  lift  the  veil  which  sin  and 
worldly  habits  have  thrown  over  your  minds,  and 
cause  you  to  behold  the  beauty  of  holiness  ;  if  I  can 
only  bring  your  feet  so  nigh  the  base  of  Calvary,  that 
you  may  see  the  three  crosses  of  gospel  history  upon 
the  crest,  with  the  figure  of  your  dying  Lord  outlined 
against  the  sky,  —  I  shall  feel  m}'  duty  is  done,  and  the 


146  CHRIST  THE  DELIVERER. 

message  I  am  sent  to  deliver  has  had,  through  my 
lips,  its  proper  expression.  I  am  more  anxious  to  set 
the  message  before  your  minds  correctly  than  to  make 
a  visible  impression.  It  is  not  by  a  succession  of 
tornadoes  that  God  causes  Nature  to  grow  and  be- 
come fruitful :  he  does  not  frighten  her  into  pro- 
ductiveness. And  the  same  holds  true  in  his  dealings 
with  men.  He  inclines  men :  he  does  not  drive. 
He  reasons  with  them  ;  he  convinces  their  judgment ; 
he  excites  their  affection  ;  he  stirs  them  to  gratitude  ; 
and  so  brings  them  by  beneficent  supervision,  through 
all  the  stages  of  growth,  until  they  are  ripe  and  per- 
fect in  sanctified  habits  and  inclinations*. 

My  hearers,  you  who  are  not  professing  Christians, 
let  me  invite  you  to  Christ,  not  as  to  a  judge  and 
taskmaster,  but  as  to  a  friend  faithful  and  tender,  — 
as  to  an  elder  brother.  Come,  not  to  put  your  necks 
under  the  yoke  of  law,  but  to  put  your  hearts  under 
the  influence  of  love.  Come  to  something  better 
than  threat  and  penalty,  better  than  precept  and  the 
letter,  better  than  rule  and  ceremony  ;  come  to  life 
and  the  persuasions  of  the  Spirit.  I  do  not  address 
your  fears :  I  should  despise  you  if  you  could  seek 
heaven  through  fear  of  hell.  I  address  jout  judg- 
ment, your  conscience,  your  sense  of  gratitude,  your 
regard  for  virtue,  your  desire  to  be  better.  These 
all  of  you  have  and  feel,  because  you  live  in  a  land 
where  the  Spirit  works.  A  heathen  does  not  feel 
them  ;  but  you  feel  them,  because  God  has  poured  out 
of  his  Spirit  upon  you.  You  are  like  flowers  upon 
which  the  dew  falls  and  the  sun  shines.    You  live  in  a 


CHRIST  THE   DELIVERER  147 

gospel  atmosphere.  God  is  shining  day  by  day  upon 
you  out  of  his  mercy.  As  the  solar  beam  draws  the 
face  of  the  flower  upward  unto  itself,  so  heaven  wooes 
you  toward  its  warmth  and  brightness.  You  are 
solicited  as  intelligent  beings  by  an  intelligent  Being. 
Be  rational,  then  :  fling  not  the  best  chance  of  your 
life  away  from  you  as  a  fool  might  fling  away  a  jewel, 
not  knowing  its  value.  If  you  are  sick,  why  forbid  a 
physician  to  enter  your  house  ?  If  you  are  blind, 
why  do  you  shrink  from  the  blessed  hand  whose 
touch  would  give  you  sight  ?  Why  do  you  make  your- 
self heathen  in  your  condition  when  God  has  made 
you  Christian  ?  If  Christianity  enslaved  you  ;  if  it 
broke  ^ou  down  and  humiliated  you ;  if  it  addressed 
your  cowardice,  and  thereby  advertised  its  own  base- 
ness, —  I  never  would  urge  it  as  something  desirable 
upon  you.  But  when  I  see  and  know  that  its  object 
is  to  make  you  free,  make  you  more  self-sustaining, 
more  noble  in  every  thing  that  relates  to  manhood ; 
when  I  know,  from  its  experience  in  my  own  life, 
that  it  can  convert  your  weakness  into  strength,  re- 
fine your  grossness,  sweeten  your  acidity,  and  make 
your  barrenness  to  be  fruitful,  —  I  can  not  and  will 
not  forbear.  You  must  become  Christian,  or  arm 
yourselves  weekly  against  my  importunities. 

Christ  not  only  delivered  men  from  the  fear  of  the 
law,  but  he  delivered  them  also  from  the  bonds  of 
superstition.  There  is  no  greater  curse  than  this. 
What  the  worse  form  of  human  chattelism  is  to  the 
body,  superstition  is  to  the  mind  and  soul.  A  super- 
stitious mind  is  an  enslaved  mind.     It  is  in  bondage 

o 


148  CHRIST  THE  DELIVERER. 

to  an  overwhelming  fear.  No  price  is  too  costly  to 
purchase  escape  from  its  terror.  Natural  affection, 
even,  is  trampled  under  foot ;  and  the  mother  becomes 
less  thoughtful  of  her  babe  than  the  tigress  of  its 
young.  The  brute  will  brave  death  for  her  cub,  and, 
with  the  hunter's  spear  in  her  side,  die  caressing  her 
young ;  but  the  mother,  under  the  terrible  spell  of 
her  superstition,  forgets  the  ties  of  bloodv  and  flings 
the  babe  at  her  breast  into  the  Ganges  to  appease 
the  anger  of  its  god.  Behold  the  car  of  the  Jug- 
gernaut !  Its  wheels  are  massive,  their  periphery 
vast ;  yet  every  inch  of  their  circumference  is  stained 
with  human  blood.  How  many  centuries  did  its 
wheels  revolve  !  How  often,  enthroned  in  horrid 
state,  did  Superstition  ride  along  a  path  paved  with 
human  bodies  to  its  triumph !  How  have  men  gazed 
and  gazed  upon  its  awful  front,  wrought  by  rude 
carving  into  fantastic  shapes  and  figures  monstrous, 
which  ignorance  had  deified,  and  then,  seeing,  as 
they  thought,  a  glimpse  of  heaven  beneath  its  wheels, 
cast  themselves  under  their  bloody  tires  !  But  this  is 
not  the  only  form  with  which  Superstition  expresses 
itself,  and  wherein  its  evil  is  shown.  The  mind  is  as 
a  city,  —  circular  in  form,  and  with  gates  opening  out 
in  every  direction :  every  gate  is  possessed  by  the 
enemy.  Judgment,  conscience,  affection,  timidity, 
courage,  —  Superstition  seizes  hold  of  every  faculty, 
and  reduces  them  all  to  .her  merciless  sway.  Her 
servant  and  ally  is  priestcraft :  they  go  together,  — 
confederated  robbers  of  human  rights  and  human 
joys.      Where  these  are,  farewell   liberty,  farewell 


CHRIST  THE   DELIVERER.  140 

progress,  farewell  piety !  They  represent  cruelty, 
arrogance,  tyranny.  The  Juggernaut  and  the  Inquisi- 
tion ;  the  one-man  power  seeking  to  protect  itself 
from  the  hate  and  satire  of  men  behind  the  bulwark  of 
infallibility,  —  a  dogma  which  "Punch"  could  laugh 
out  of  existence  in  half  a  century,  —  these  are  the 
result  of  superstition.  To  these,  men  had  been  in 
bondage,  —  a  bondage  which  cramped  their  power, 
and  withered  all  their  sinews  ;  which  made  science  im- 
possible, piety  something  to  be  dreaded,  and  excluded 
liberty  from  the  vocabulary  of  human  speech.  From 
these  Christ  came  to  deliver  men  :  from  these  he 
has  delivered  all  those  who  have  believed  on  him. 
The  first  thing  that  Christianity  does  is  to  remove 
from  the  mind  ignorance,  credulity,  pride,  and  all 
the  co-ordinate  causes  of  superstition.  It  represents 
a  thorough  horticulture.  It  takes  hold  of  the  evil, 
and  pulls  it  up  by  the  roots ;  threading  it  out  to  its 
last  fibre,  until  there  is  not  even  a  filament  of  it 
left.  It  brings  freedom  to  ever}'  faculty  of  the  mind, 
—  to  inquisitiveness,  and  science  is  born ;  to  reason, 
and  philosophy  appears ;  to  imagination,  and  "  Para- 
dise Lost,"  that  genesis  and  revelation  of  song,  is 
written.  It  quickens  all  the"  germinant  capabilities 
in  the  bosoms  of  men ;  starts  to  action  every  dor- 
mant aspiration ;  and  as  the  consummate  flower,  the 
blossoming  of  all  precedent  growths,  civil  and  reli- 
gious liberty  unfold  their  loveliness  —  which  so  many 
of  old  desired  to  see,  but  died,  being  unable  —  before 
the  world's  admiring  gaze. 

All  hail,  then,  to  Christianity,  who  comes  as  the 


150  CHRIST  THE   DELIVERER. 

emancipator  both  of  the  minds  and  the  bodies  of 
men  !  Hail  to  that  system  of  truth,  in  the  atmosphere 
of  which  no  slave  can  breathe  ;  in  which  the  strong- 
est fetter  melts  as  ice  smitten  by  the  rays  of  the 
summer's  sun !  Hail  to  that  Christ,  the  Anointed  of 
God,  —  equal  in  essence  to  the  Father,  and  revealer  of 
his  love,  —  who  is  walking  over  the  earth  in  power, 
visiting  every  barbarous  tribe,  every  enslaved  race, 
with  the  proclamation  of  their  emancipation  in  his 
right  hand,  and  the  guaranties  of  their  rights  in  his 
left !  Behind  them,  and  on  either  side,  Plenty  ap- 
pears. As  he  mc  ves  on,  groans  are  changed  to  sounds 
of  joy ;  and  the  spear  which  cruelty  had  pointed  for 
the  human  breast  is  driven  into  the  ground ! 

My  friends,  can  a  system  which  works  such  results 
be  overturned  ?  Will  the  suffrage  of  the  world,  think 
you,  vote  against  the  evidence  of  the  senses  ?  Will 
civilized  America  vote  down  her  magnificent  social 
and  religious  system  for  the  polished  barbarism  of 
ancient  Greece  ?  Will  a  nation  that  has  drunk  from 
the  fountains  of  divine  truth,  that  finds  the  water 
their  fathers  drank  still  sweet  and  nourishing,  ever 
give  up  the  New  Testament,  and  adopt  the  dialogues 
of  Plato  and  the  maxims  of  the  slave  Epictetiis  for 
their  divine  books  ?  Such  a  suspicion  is  an  impeach- 
ment of  men's  sanity.  Now  and  then,  an  ill-balanced, 
idiosyncratic  person,  puffed  with  the  harmless  conceit 
that  he  may  yet  be  the  Socrates  of  Boston ;  who  lost 
his  commou  sense  in  some  old  German  library,  and 
failed  to  find  it  again  when  he  bought  his  ticket 
for  America,  —  some  such  person,  possibly  a  dozen ; 


CHRIST  THE   DELIVERER.  151 

such  persons,  may  be  found  pervaded  with  such  a 
dream ;  but  the  people,  as  a  bod}r,  care  nothing  for 
their  theories  or  their  predictions.  Such  individuals 
have  their  use  also.  They  serve  to  illustrate  the 
largeness  of  that  liberty  which  Christianity  has  se- 
cured for  them. 

The  fourth  and  last  deliverance  that  I  shall  men- 
tion, which  Christ  wrought  out  for  man,  is  deliver- 
ance from  the  fear  of  God.  Of  course,  there  is  a 
sense  in  which  a  Christian  fears  God,  even  as  there 
is  a  sense  in  which  a  child  fears  a  loving  and  dearly- 
loved  parent,  —  a  reverential,  holy  deference  for  his 
authority.  But  this  is  not  the  fear  which  terrifies  and 
distracts,  which  debases  and  makes  servile.  When 
the  fatherhood  of  God  is  fully  apprehended,  —  a  re- 
lation which  not  one  in  a  dozen  Christians  adequately 
realize ;  when  the  filial  bond  is  felt  as  a  child  feels 
the  clasp  of  the  mother's  supporting  and  guiding 
hand  ;  when  adoption  is  not  a  mere  mental  conclu- 
sion, but  is  lovingly  and  constantly  evidenced  by  the 
Spirit  in  the  soul,  —  then  fear  has  no  foothold  in 
the  heart  of  the  disciple  ;  then  upon  his  face  rests  the 
light  of  implicit  trust;  and  the  look  of  his  eye  is 
the  look  of  unquestioning  love.  Well  did  the  apos- 
tle John  declare  that  "  love  casteth  out  fear.  .  .  .  He 
who  feareth  is  not  made  perfect  in  love."  May  God 
forgive  us  our  unbelief,  out  of  which  our  timidity,  as 
a  dwarfed  child  from  a  sinful  parent,  comes  ! 

My  friends,  ponder  these  things.  Be  more  thorough 
in  your  habits  of  analysis.  Love  and  fear  are  exact 
opposites.     They  cannot  exist  together  in  the  soul  in 


152  CHRIST  THE  DELIVERER. 

its  outgoings  toward  one  object.  A  babe  fears  a 
stranger ;  but  who  ever  knew  a  babe  to  fear  its 
mother's  face  ?  Put  a  father  and  his  little  son  face 
to  face,  and  is  it  possible  that  either  could  fear  the 
other  ?  And  yet  why  not  ?  Because  there  is  love 
between  them  :  every  malevolent  temper  is  exorcised 
by  the  charm  of  this  sentiment.  But  some  other 
man  that  son  might  fear :  or  if  his  father  should 
meet  him  in  some  lonely  place,  and  in  such  darkness 
that  he  could  not  recognize  his  face,  I  can  conceive 
that  he  might  fear  even  his  father,  because  he  would 
not  know  that  he  was  his  father,  but  suppose  he 
was  some  other  man,  —  perhaps  a  cruel  man  and  a  foe. 
Well,  very  much  like  that  it  was  once  between  men 
and  God.  God  met  men  in  darkness,  and  they  did 
not  know  his  face :  they  did  not  know  who  or  what 
God  was  at  all.  They  saw  his  works,  and  knew  that 
he  was  powerful  and  wise  and  vast.  On  every  hand 
they  saw  such  elements  connected  with  cruelty. 
Whoever  had  power  used  it  to  work  his  will  on  his 
enemies,  enslave  the  weak,  and  lord  it  over  the  poor. 
Power  meant,  in  those  old  days,  disregard  of  justice, 
license,  cruelty,  and  every  kind  of  wicked  indulgence. 
Reasoning  from  analogy,  God  would  use  his  power 
to  satisfy  his  own  passions,  and  carry  out  his  own 
selfish  plans.  Hence  men  feared  God, — feared  him 
as  a  slave  feared  his  master,  as  a  soldier  fears  his 
general,  as  a  courtier  fears  his  king.  "  That  God 
was  king,  they  knew ;  but,  that  God  was  their  own 
dear  father,  they  did  not  know,  and  had  no  means 
of  knowing. 


CHRIST  THE   DELIVERER.  153 

At  last,  Christ  came.  Came  for  what  ?  To  reveal 
the  Father.  In  Christ,  God  manifested  himself.  In 
him  men  saw  the  will  of  God  revealed,  and  all  the 
paternal  sentiments  of  his  heart  were  made  known. 
And  when  Christ,  in  the  results  of  his  life  and  death, 
is  received  of  the  soul ;  when,  through  the  lens-like 
medium  of  his  words  and  acts,  our  eye  being  un- 
dimmed  by  prejudice,  by  the  harshness  of  traditional 
interpretation  of  Scripture,  by  physical  disease,  we 
see  God,  —  doubt  and  terror  are  removed.  No  more 
do  we  shake,  no  more  tremble,  as  we  think  of  meeting 
him.  No  more  is  the  grave  dismal,  but  is  as  the 
doorway  of  a  palace  through  which  the  children  of  a 
king  pass  to  kiss  him  on  his  throne.  No  more  is  the 
valley  of  death  a  valley  of  shadow ;  for  a  marvel- 
lous light,  unlike  that  of  the  sun,  fills  it  and  floods 
it ;  and  the  valley  is  full  of  radiant  forms ;  and  all 
who  pass  into  it  are  on  the  instant  changed,  and 
become  radiant  as  themselves.  And  in  the  joy  of  their 
surprise  they  begin  to  chant ;  and  hand  linked  in 
hand,  wing  infolding  wing,  they  go  forward  singing, 
"  O  Death  !  where  is  thy  sting  ?  O  Grave  !  where  is 
thy  victory  ?  " 

This  is  what  Christianity  does  to  the  soul  in  its 
relations  to  God.  A  believer  is  called  a  "  child  of 
God."  Beautiful  name  for  a  lovely  relation  !  Chris- 
tians are  regarded  in  heaven  as  "  heirs  and  joint-heirs 
with  Christ."  There  is  no  alienation,  no  estrange- 
ment, between  believers  and  the  Father.  We  have 
been  brought  nigh  and  reconciled  by  the  blood  of 
Christ.      "  Brought   nigh  "  !  "  reconciled  "  !  —  think 

7* 


154  CHRIST  THE  DELIVERER 

what  these  terms  imply.  The  love  between  God  and 
his  children  is  a  reciprocal  love,  a  sincere  love,  a  fear- 
less love.  There  is  nothing,  no  stroke,  no  calamity, 
"  neither  life  nor  death,"  as  Paul  insists,  can  sever 
the  cords  that  unite  us  with  God.  It  is  not  a  contin- 
gent love  :  it  is  a  love  not  born  of  circumstance  and 
temporary  condition.  The  child  errs,  disobeys,  re- 
volts, hides  himself  from  his  mother's  face  for  years ; 
but  he  loves  his  mother  still.  The  mother  loves  her 
child  still.  Their  love  is  a  love  born  of  begetting  and 
being  begotten.  It  began  with  the  child's  birth :  it 
will  endure  after  the  child  and  mother  are  dead.  For 
love  like  this,  being  not  of  flesh  and  blood,  but  of  the 
spirit,  cannot  perish.  It  is  irnmortal.  So  it  is  be- 
tween God  and  his  spiritual  children.  The  Christian 
may  err,  may  revolt,  may  wander  from  God  :  but  there 
is  no  distance,  no  rebellion,  no  lapse,  that  can  sever 
the  renewed  soul  from  the  Author  of  its  regenerated 
life ;  for  the  Lord  is  able  to  keep  such  as  have  given 
themselves  into  his  care. 

I  do  not  say  that  this  is  done  without  the  employ- 
ment of  agents  and  means ;  for  it  is  not.  But  this 
does  not  affect  the  result.  The  mother  is  not  less 
the  preserver  of  her  child's  life  because  she  does  it 
through  the  agency  of  food  and  clothes  and  medi- 
cines.    The  Christian  is  kept :  let  that  suffice. 

Now,  then,  I  say,  in  view  of  all  this,  —  of  what 
God  is,  as  revealed  in  Christ,  —  it  is  impossible  for  a 
Christian,  properly  enlightened  by  the  Spirit,  to  fear 
God,  —  as  impossible  as  it  is  for  a  child  to  fear  a 
loving  mother.     We   might   fear   the   condemnation 


CHRIST  THE   DELIVERER.  155 

for  sin  ;  "  but  there  is  now  no  condemnation."  We 
might  fear  death  ;  "  but  the  sting  of  death  is  sin, 
and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law."  "But  now  we 
are  delivered  from  the  law,"  as  Paul  says;  "that 
being  dead  in  which  we  were  once  held."  We  might 
fear  the  grave  ;  "  but,  if  the  Spirit  of  Him  who  raised 
up  Jesus  from  the  dead  dwell  in  us,  He  that  raised 
up  Christ  from  the  dead  shall  also  quicken  our  mor- 
tal bodies  by  his  Spirit  that  dwelleth  in  us."  We 
might  fear  lest  we  had  not  been  renewed ;  but  how 
can  we,  "  when  the  Spirit  beareth  witness  with  our 
spirit  that  we  are  the  children  of  God  "  ?  "  What  shall 
we  say,  then,  to  these  things  ?  If  God  be  for  us,  who 
can  be  against  us  ?  "  If,  as  the  last  resort  of  a  timid 
soul,  you  forebode  the  future,  and  cry  out,  "  At  least 
I  cannot  but  fear  the  judgment,"  I  respond  in  the 
words  of  Scripture,  —  words  that  cover  the  whole 
ground,  —  "  It  is  God  who  justifieth."  And  so  cloud 
after  cloud  melts ;  the  blue  grows  upon  the  eye  as  it 
gazes ;  and  the  sky  upon  which  the  dying  believer 
looks  is  cloudless. 

I  have  thus,  friends,  spoken  to  you  in  exposition 
of  the  four  kinds  of  bondage  from  which  Christ  de- 
livers man, — the  bondage  of  ceremony,  of  law,  of 
superstition,  and  of  fear.  In  view  of  what  has  been 
said,  may  not  Christ,  with  justice,  be  called  the  De- 
liverer ?  If  it  be  a  praiseworthy  deed  to  publish  free- 
dom to  the  slave,  to  carry  liberty  to  the  down-trod- 
den and  oppressed,  as  history  has  universally  taught 
it  to  be,  in  what  form  of  speech  can  I  fitly  express 
the  claim  of  Christ   to  the    gratitude  of   mankind? 


156  CHRIST  THE   DELIVERER. 

Who,  —  tell  me,  ye  students  of  history,  —  who  has 
broken  so  many  fetters,  levelled  so  many  thrones 
builded  on  injustice,  redeemed  so  many  human  be- 
ings out  of  direst  bondage,  as  He  whom  we  here, 
every  one  of  us  rescued  by  him,  call  our  Saviour  and 
Redeemer?  Go  to  once  heathen  lands,  and  behold 
how  he  has  given  knowledge  to  the  ignorant,  en- 
nobled life  by  teaching  man  its  noblest  use,  intro- 
duced an  immortal  hope  into  the  bosom  of  despair, 
and  upon  thousands  that  were  sitting  in  darkness  and 
the  shadow  of  death  caused  a  great  light  to  arise 
and  shine.  Has  done- it,  did  I  say  ?  nay,  he  is  doing 
it  continually.  Not  a  day  passes  in  which  he  does 
not  repeat  his  past  efforts,  and  multiply  his  triumphs. 
Around  him,  as  he  marches,  victories  accumulate  ; 
and  the  path  along  which  he  walks  is  strewn  with 
the  shattered  shields  and  overturned  chariots  of  his 
foes. 

It  is  not  the  dying,  but  the  living,  not  the  buried, 
but  the  risen,  not  the  captive,  but  the  victorious 
Christ,  that  you  have  chosen  as  your  Lord.  The 
hours  of  his  debasement,  his  suffering,  his  death,  have 
passed.  Never  again  will  men  mock  him ;  never 
again  will  the  scourge  touch  him ;  never  again  will  a 
sepulchre  hold  him,  even  for  an  hour.  To-day  he  is 
exalted.  The  glory  that  he  had  with  the  Father  be- 
fore the  world  was  is  his  again.  To-day  he  sits  reg- 
nant over  thrones  and  principalities  and  powers : 
they  lay  their  crowns  around  his  feet;  they  pros- 
trate themselves  in  loving  homage.  The  highest  in 
heaven  deem  it  an  honor  to  praise  him. 


CHRIST  THE  DELIVERER.  157 

Do  you  say,  "  This  is  too  vast.  I  have  no  standard 
by  which  to  gauge  such  dignity.  You  put  my  Saviour 
too  far  above  me,  —  too  far  away.  Sketch  me  some 
other  picture.  Let  me  see  his  face  as  the'  face  of  a 
man,  only  ennobled  with  the  spirit  of  a  God.  Let  me 
hear  him  speak  in  tones  that  can  enter  the  ear.  Let 
me  touch  him ;  at  least,  lay  my  finger  on  the  hem  of 
his  garment "  ? 

Behold,  then,  your  Saviour !  He  stands  like  a  statue 
vivified  and  animate.  His  feet  are  on  a  rock.  In 
either  hand  he  holds  a  scroll.  On  one  is  traced  the 
Golden  Rule  :  upon  the  other  I  see  these  words, 
"  On  earth  peace."  Suspended  across  his  breast  are 
the  beatitudes.  His  face  shines  as  the  face  of  an 
angel  in  the  act  of  gazing  at  God.  Around  his  feet 
lie  the  dying  and  the  dead.  The  dead  look  like  those 
who  have  fallen  asleep  in  peace :  the  lips  of  the  dy- 
ing suggest  the  presence  of  a  smile.  Afar  off  is  a 
great  multitude  of  men  and  women,  each  carrying 
some  load.  To  these  he  is  speaking.  Oh,  blessed  be 
God !  what  words  are  these  I  hear  ? —  "  Come  unto  me, 
all  ye  who  labor  and  are  heavy-laden,  and  I  will  give 
you  rest."  This  is  your  Saviour,  friend.  What  do 
you  say  to  him  ?     Say,  "My  Lord  and  my  God!  " 


SABBATH  MORNING,  APRIL  SO,  1871. 


SERMON. 


SUBJECT. -DIVINE  JUSTICE. 

"Justice   and   judgment   are  the    habitation   of   Thy   throne."— 
Ps.  lxxxix.  14. 

I  WISH  to  speak  to  you  this  morning  upon  the 
justice  of  God,  or  divine  justice.  Not  a  few  say 
that,  many  of  our  pulpits  are  cautiously  reticent  upon 
this  subject,  and  that  they  preach  of  the  mild  to  the 
exclusion  of  the  severe  virtues  of  God.  I  desire  that 
none  should  be  able  to  truthfully  say  this  of  this  pul- 
pit ;  at  least,  while  I  am  in  it  as  a  preacher.  I  believe 
in  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  as  you  all  know ;  in  his 
love  and  mercy  and  compassionate  feelings  toward  us 
all :  yea,  I  believe  in  these  so  fully,  that  I  believe  in 
his  justice  as  well.  For  no  one,  as  I  look  at  it,  can  ever 
adequately  comprehend  the  greatness  of  God's  love, 
who  does  not  hold,  with  all  the  forces  of  his  heart 
and  mind,  that  justice  and  judgment  are  the  habita- 
tion of  his  throne.  What  I  have  to  say  this  morning, 
in  expanding  my  theme,  may  be  grouped  under  these 
two  heads :  — 

1.  The  justice  of  God  as  an  element  of  his  govern- 
ment*; and, — 

158 


DIVINE   JUSTICE.  159 

2.  As  a  rule  of  his  conduct. 

When  I  speak  of  the  government  of  God,  you  must 
ple?.se  remember  that  I  use  it  simply  to  aid  the  con- 
ception, not  to  make  any  distinction  between  it  and 
God  himself.  God  is  his  own  government,  both  in  its 
principles  and  its  administration.  The  President  of 
the  universe  is  without  a  cabinet.  No  councillors  sit 
with  him ;  no  adviser  is  called  to  his  side ;  no  divis- 
ion of  interest  exists  to  proVoke  differences  in  that 
heavenly  nationality.  No  opposition,  even  in  thought, 
is  tolerated  or  dreamed  of.  Among  the  intelligences 
that  people  the  invisible  world,  there  is  but  one 
throne  ;  and  before  the  glory  of  that  the  highest  arch- 
angel veils  his  face.  Throughout  the  whole  universe, 
over  stars,  systems,  and  worlds,  one  sceptre  rules. 
On  the  bounty  of  one  Supreme  Benevolence  all  ani- 
mate beings  feed,  and  to  the  authority  of  one  Central 
Will  all  modes  of  life  are  subject. 

The  government  of  God  is  thus  shown  to  be  noth- 
ing less  than  God  himself,  and  the  elements  of  it  the 
very  essence  of  the  Deity.  With  a  Being  thus  om- 
nipotent in  his  power,  and  unrestrained  in  his  exercise 
of  it,  by  whom  all  differences  must  eventually  be  de- 
cided, and  the  destiny  of  every  living  creature  fixed, 
what  would  naturally  and  properly  be  the  predomi- 
nating principle  ?  What  would  be  the  corner-stone 
first  laid,  and  upon  which  the  whole  vast  superstruc- 
ture rests  ? 

Before  we  hastily  answer  this  question,  let  us  call 
to  mind  that  the  government  of  God  has  for  its  sub- 
jects two  widely-different  classes  of  beings,  —  the  just 


160  DIVINE   JUSTICE. 

and  the  unjust,  the  loyal  and  the  rebellious.  This  is 
indisputably  true,  and  changes  the  complexion  of  the 
entire  case.  If  any  inquire,  "  How  ?  "  I  reply,  In  this 
way:  Were  all  the  subjects  of  God's  government 
pure  and  right-minded,  the  severe  virtues  of  God 
would  have  no  occasion  for  exercise ;  the  terrors  of 
the  law  would  lie  unmanifested,  and  the  bolt  hidden 
in  the  bosom  of  the  cloud,  and  God,  in  the  company 
of  his  own  pure  beings,  could  lay  aside  his  harness, 
and  rest  in  the  security  of  untempted  innocence.  In 
such  a  society,  where  there  would  be  nothing  to  re- 
strain, nothing  against  which  to  guard ;  where,  through 
the  lapse  of  vast  ages,  nothing  would  occur  to  ruffle 
the  serenity  of  the  Divine  Mind,  or  disturb  the  quiet 
of  God's  kingdom,  — love  and  the  milder  graces  would, 
undoubtedly,  be  in  the  ascendant.  But  such  is  not 
the  case.  The  reverse  is  true.  So  far  back  as  human 
annals  extend,  or  inspired  narrative  reveals,  evil  has 
contended  with  good ;  and  God ,  as  the  arbitrator  be- 
tween the  two,  has  been  kept  day  by  day  on  the 
alert.  How  active  the  divine  energies  must  con- 
stantly be  to  decide  the  countless  questions  of  recti- 
tude as  they  hourly  arise !  How  keen  and  keenly 
alive  must  be  the  sympathies  and  the  antipathies  of 
God  !  That  you  may  realize  how  intensely  active  are 
the  discriminating  energies  of  Jehovah,  mentally  esti- 
mate the  occasions,  both  past  and  present,  calculated 
to  tax  their  closest  exercise.  Consider  first  in  time 
as  in  significance,  the  fall  of  the  angels. 

I  make  no  attempt  to  explain  the  mystery,  how  be- 
ings once  pure,  sinless,  and  beyond  the  reach  of  guile, 


DIVINE   JUSTICE.  1(31 

could  by  any  means  so  far  have  declined  in  virtue, 
that  their  celestial  natures,  imbittered,  lost  their 
lovely  characteristics,  and  became  utterly  depraved. 
But  so  it  was.  The  fact  is  recorded,  that  for  once 
at  least  the  hills  of  heaven  resounded  with  war ;  for 
once,  intestine  strife  rudely  disturbed  the  tranquillity 
of  the  skies ;  for  once,  the  chariot  of  God  was  har- 
nessed for  battle,  and  the  Eternal  defended  with  his 
thunders  the  stability  of  his  throne. 

The  conflict  was  joined,  the  rebellion  crushed ;  and 
God  stood  victor  on  that  awful  field.  What  were 
his  sentiments  ?  What  did  he  do  toward  the  rebel- 
lious? You  all  remember.  No  false  sensitiveness 
distracted,  in  that  hour,  the  decision  of  God.  No 
maudlin  pity  wept  over  thwarted  devils,  or  pleaded 
the  greatness  of  their  temptation  to  mitigate  their 
fall.  Their  sin  was  premeditated,  their  rebellion 
outrageous  and  unreasonable.  Hell,  whatever  of 
punishment  that  maj  symbolize,  was  excavated  for 
the  emergency  ;  and  into  it  they  were  flung.  Thrones 
and  principalities  and  powers  once  radiant,  who 
walked  amid  the  applause  of  heaven,  went  out  in 
darkness.  The}7  faded;  they  fell:  and  God's  loyal 
ones  lifted  up  their  voices  to  indorse  the  justice  and 
wisdom  of  the  award. 

Thus  the  earliest  data  we  can  gather  of  God,  the 
first  exhibition  of  his  government  made  to  the  eyes 
of  men,  is  found  to  be  unhesitating,  impartial,  and 
inflexible  justice. 

The  next  historic  exhibition  we  have  of  the  Deity 
is  his  action  in  the  case  of  our  great  progenitor, 
Adam. 


102  DIVINE  JUSTICE. 

You  know  the  circumstances  of  condescension  on 
the  part  of  God  which  attended  the  introduction  of 
oar  common  parent  into  life.  As  one  reads  the  nar- 
rative of  the  creation,  he  cannot  but  be  impressed 
with  the  thought,  that  the  birth  of  man  was  a  favorite 
conception  of  the  Divine  Mind.  Actively  entertained 
as  an  idea  ages  before  the  consummation,  vast  periods 
of  time  had  been  employed  to  create  a  sphere  worthy 
of  his  faculties.  Whatever  creative  ingenuity  could 
advise,  or  energy  effect,  was  done  ;  whatever  ele- 
ment could  forward  the  undertaking  was  drafted  into 
the  divine  work.  Every  result  lovely  to  the  eye  or 
pleasing  to  the  senses  was  produced,  until  such  a  har- 
mony had  been  reached  in  taste,  color,  and  sound, 
that  God  himself  was  satisfied.  He  paused  in  his 
work,  looked,  and  said,  "  It  is  very  good,"  —  superla- 
tive praise  from  superlative  wisdom  to  pronounce  it. 

At  last,  man,  the  crowning  work  of  all,  so  far  as 
physical  beauty  and  powers  of  adaptation  go,  and 
endowed  with  intelligence  like#to  God's  in  kind,  was 
placed  upon  the  earth.  For  this  superior  being  a 
bui  table  home  had  been  made  ready,  and  to  him  all 
life  was  made  subject.  Thus  located,  surrounded  by 
all  he  could  desire,  and  the  favorite  of  Heaven,  Adam, 
as  the  child  of  God,  began  his  existence.  One  com- 
mand alone  was  laid  upon  him,  trivial  in  all  respects 
save  as  a  test  of  his'  obedience.  This  injunction 
he  disobeyed.  In  full  maturity  of  his  manhood,  he 
yielded  like  a  silly  child.  What  followed?  Must 
this  man,  who  had  only  yielded  to  the  persuasions  of 
Jove ;  who  had  only  complied  with  the  prayer  of  her 


DIVINE  JUSTICE.  163 

given  by  God  himself  to  be  his  companion,  — must  this 
man,  in  the  creation  of  whose  dwelling  so  many  ages 
had  been  expended,  and  so  many  resources  taxed ; 
whose  birth  brought  joy  to  heaven,  and  delight  to 
God ;  whose  parentage  linked  him  as  with  ties  of 
blood  to  the  celestial  orders  to  whom  he  and  his 
would  one  day  be  united,  —  must  this  man,  for  this 
one  disobedience,  this  one  slip,  fall  forever,  be  ex- 
iled from  the  home  so  expensively  fitted  up.  for  him, 
lose  his  high  prerogatives,  his  heavenly  associations, 
and  go  down  at  last  like  a  mere  animal  into  the  dust  ? 
Could  not,  would  not,  God,  for  once,  modify  this  ruling, 
and  let  his  favorite  begin,  as  it  were,  once  more  anew? 
Surely,  if  God  is,  as  some  argue,  too  merciful  to  con- 
demn, too  benevolent  to  cast  man  aside,  imperfect 
though  he  be,  here  was  a  golden  opportunity  for  him 
to  exercise  such  benevolence.  Here  was  a  chance  to 
forgive  such  as  even  he  would  seldom  have..  Here 
he  might  make  an  exhibition  of  himself  that  would 
bring  hope  to  a  despondent  world.  But,  my  hearers, 
what  did  he  do  ?  I  answer,  He  did  just  what  he  said 
he  would  ;  what  in  every  such  case  and  circumstance, 
past,  present,  and  to  come,  he  has  done  and  will  do. 
The  justice  of  God  had  been  tampered  with,  its  right- 
eous and  salutary  ruling  disregarded  ;  and  though  all 
the  heavens  should  plead,  and  the  angels  fill  the«skies 
with  lamentations,  the  penalty  *must  follow.  The 
word  of  the  Unchangeable  had  gone  forth.  The  uni- 
verse had  heard  and  made  note  of  the  proclamation ; 
and  now  it  looked  to  behold  what  would  follow. 
Nothing  less  than  the  veracity  of  God,  you  see,  was  on 


1G4  DIVINE  JUSTICE. 

trial.  Would  he  keep  his  word  ?  would  he  consign 
his  favorite  to  death?  would  he  abide  by  his  own 
ruling  ?  Such  were  the  whispers  that  filled'  the  uni- 
verse. Do  not  suppose  this  picture  poetic  and  im- 
probable. The  angels  know  more  of  God  now  than 
then.  Calvary  showed  them  how  he  loves  justice. 
When  "  he  spared  not  his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him 
up,"  that  he  might  be  just,  and  yet  the  justifier  of  the 
unjust,  heaven  for  the  first  time  felt  the  inflexibility 
of  its  King.  In  the  agony  of  Christ,  angels  read,  and 
trembled  as  they  read,  the  virtue  of  God.  In  the  death 
of  the  Only -Begotten,  they  beheld  the  enduring  wrath 
of  Jehovah  against  sin.  The  dying  groan  of  Chri&t  not 
only  rent  the  earth,  but  filled  the  universe  with  an  in- 
finite conviction. 

And  so,  for  the  second  time,  did  God  make  a  reve- 
lation of  himself;  and  justice  again,  you  see,  stood  re- 
vealed as  the  underlying  element  of  his  government. 

This  proof  from  history  might  be  continued  by 
many  references,  and,  in  each  case,  be  conclusive : 
for  what  God  has  done  is  only  what  he  will  forever 
do  in  like  circumstances ;  fpr  he  has  done  nothing  but 
what  is  right,  and  from  that  he  cannot  vary. 

I  instance  but  one  more  case ;  to  it  I  have  already 
alluded,  —  the  death  of  Christ,  its  relations  to  the 
justice  of  God. 

At  the  coming  of  the  Saviour,  a  crisis  had  been 
reached  in  the  history  of  the  race.  Man,  through  the 
baseness  of  his  degeneracy,  was  fast  losing  his  natural 
superiority  over  the  beasts  of  the  field.  His  spiritual 
perceptions  were  darkened  ;  his  social  life  was  corrupt 


DIVINE  JUSTICE.  165 

to  the  last  degree  ;  and  his  tendencies,  with  each 
successive  generation,  were  growing  more  and  more 
gross.  Surely  something  must  be  done.  Now,  if 
ever,  is  his  condition  to  be  improved.  Surely  it  can- 
not be  that  God  is  wanting  in  mercy,  or  that  pity  is 
a  stranger  to  his  breast.  "  Can  the  angels  behold  us, 
and  not  be  grieved  ?  "  men  might  exclaim.  "  Are  the 
e}^es  of  our  Father  blind  that  he  cannot  see  the  mis- 
ery of  his  children,  or  those  who  live  beyond  the  stars 
too  distant  to  hear  our  cry  ?  "  No  :  the  eyes  of  the 
Deity  are  ever  open,  and  his  mercy  pleadeth  for  all. 

Lost  and  ruined  as  they  were,  God  still  loved  the 
race  :  the  patient  Father  yearned  over  his  wayward 
children,  and  decided  that  they  should  be  redeemed. 
But  there  stood  his  law ;  it  had  been  broken  :  there 
stood  his  executive  energies ;  they  had  been  defied. 
How  might  the  one  be  satisfied,  and  the  other  ap- 
peased ?  An  easy  matter,  indeed,  as  some  judge  of 
God ;  an  infinitely -difficult  problem,  as  the  solution 
proved.  For  when  the  mind  of  God  began  to  cast 
about,  if  I  may  so  express  it,  to  ascertain  what  would 
satisfy  the  judicial  element  of  his  government,  and 
make  atonement  to  the  transgressed  and  insulted  law, 
what  and  how  much  was  found  to  be  necessary  to  sat- 
isfy ?  Would  repentance  in  man  suffice  ?  if  so,  why 
was  not  that  alone  enjoined  ?  Would  the  pleadings  of 
all  the  angelic  orders,  though  they  had  prostrated 
themselves  before  the  throne,  and  supplicated  forgiv- 
ness  for  man,  have  availed  ?  If  so,  why  was  not  that 
attempted  ? .  Could  the  love  of  God  itself,  and  the 
sweet  importunity  of  his  mercy,  have  persuaded  th^ 


166  DIVINE  JUSTICE. 

judgment  of  the  Eternal  ?  If  so,  why  was  another 
manifestation  made  ?  No,  my  friends  !  Ye  who  love 
to  know  what  God  is,  observe  how,  unpersuaded  by 
the  repentance  of  men,  deaf  to  the  prayers  of  the 
angels,  back  of  love  and  mercy  stood  the  judicial  ele- 
ment of  Jehovah's  nature,  —  an  element  by  which  all 
other  of  his  attributes  are  regulated,  and  on  which 
all  the  doings  of  his  vast  administrations  are  builded. 
This  element  is  justice.  It  spake;  and  well  might 
the  mansions  of  heaven  become  silent  as  the  grave 
as  they  listened  to  the  greatness  of  the  demand.  The 
glory  of  no  angel  was  bright  enough,  that  by  his  de- 
basement atonement  could  be  made ;  the  life  of  no 
potentate,  the  exaltation  of  no  throne,  through  all 
the  spiritual  empire,  was  valuable  or  lofty  enough,  that 
by  their  death  and  fall  man  might  live.  The  element 
of  the  divine  nature  spared  not  its  own.  The  vio- 
lated law  appealed  to  Justice  for  an  ample  vindication ; 
and  Justice,  lifting  its  hand  above  powers  and  princi- 
palities, pointed  its  finger  at  the  Son  of  God.  Its  de- 
mand was  complied  with  ;  and  then,  for  a  third  time,  a 
manifestation  of  divine  justice  was  made,  such  as  the 
thrones  of  heaven  will  never  forget,  nor  the  depths 
of  hell  fail  to  remember.  The  angels  saw  what  they 
had  long  desired  to  look  into,  —  the  nature  of  Jeho- 
vah ;  its  holiness,  its  hatred  of  sin,  and  its  merey, 
The  universe  felt  safe  ;  in  God  it  saw  the  bulwark  of 
its  protection :  and  hell,  which  had  lifted  itself  for  a 
season  in  hope  of  a  partial  victory  at  least,  fell  back 
into  its  own  waves,  stricken  with  the  paralysis  of  ut- 
ter inability  to  cope  with  the  Eternal. 


DIVINE  JUSTICE.  167 

We  will  now  consider,  in  the  second  place,  the 
justice  of  God  as  the  rule  of  his  conduct. 

I  must  ask  that  all  of  you  remember  that  God  rules 
over  an  intelligent  universe  ;  over  worlds  inhabited 
by  beings  of  moral  capacity  and  intellectual  power, 
and  capable  of  vast  development.  From  this  it  fol- 
lows that  the  doings  of  God  are  looked  upon  by  intel- 
ligent spectators,  and  that  innumerable  eyes  are  fixed 
in  steady  inquisition  upon  his  movements.  That  such 
inspection  is  consistent  with  the  highest  reverence 
is  seen  in  the  fact,  that  God,  in  the  revelation  he  has 
made  of  himself,  has  invited  it,  and  that  it  occurs  in 
strict  sequence  from  the  possession  of  the  powers  he 
has  bestowed  upon  us  ;  for  he  certainly  would  never 
have  given  us  the  impulse  and  the  guiding  thread,  had 
he  not  wished  us  to  push  in  and  explore  the  labyrinth. 
My  conception  of  the  universe,  therefore,  is  of  a 
vast  amphitheatre,  from  whose  star-lighted  galleries, 
rising  row  on  row  in  radiant  succession,  innumerable 
multitudes  in  thronged  admiration  contemplate  with 
ever-increasing  delight  the  marvellous  doings  of  Him 
"  for  whom  and  by  whom  all  things  consist."  The 
subjects  of  God's  authority  are  thus  seen  to  be  con- 
temptible neither  by  the  smallness  of  their  capacity 
nor  the  brevity  of  their  existence ;  for  they  are  created 
in  his  image,  and  insured  against  whatever  accident 
by  their  immortality. 

You  will  please  also  note,  that,  so  far  as  man  is  con- 
cerned, the  subjects  of  the  divine  government  are  at 
present  either  in  a  state  of  alienation  from  or  of  pro- 
gression toward  the  status  of  perfectly  sinless  beings  ; 


108  DIVINE  JUSTICE. 

that  human  life  is  intended  to  be,  and  in  fact  is,  noth- 
ing more  than  a  disciplinary  stage  and  test ;  and  that, 
concerning  man's  fitness  to  enter  the  next  higher 
grade,  when  he  shall,  by  the  conditions  of  his  mortali- 
ty, pass  from  this,  God,  necessarily,  is  himself  the  sole 
competent  judge.  You  at  once  see  how  profound 
must  be  the  interest  that  the  All-seeing  must  take  in 
our  every  act,  and  how  constant  and  discriminating 
must  be  his  arbitrations  in  reference  to  us. 

In  such  a  multitude  of  cases,  where  thousands  of 
decisions  are  daily  being  made,  —  decisions  which  are 
final,  and  on  which  the  fate  of  undjung  existences 
eternally  depend,  —  whoever  pretends  to  judge  must 
be  guided,  not  by  impulse,  nor  by  accidental  emotions, 
but  by  certain  fixed  and  immutable  principles  of  right. 
The  judicial  renderings  of  this  tribunal,  at  least, 
must  be  based  on  laws  and  maxims  of  rectitude  be- 
yond cavil ;  and  this  insures  two  things  :  — 

1st,  That  no  decision  will  go  beyond  or  come  short 
of  justice. 

2d,  When  once  published,  it  can  never  be  revoked. 
From  this  supreme  court  of  the  universe,  held  only 
by  the  Chief  Expounder  of  universal  law,  there  can 
be  no  appeal :  from  the  highest  it  cannot  be  carried 
up  to  a  higher,  nor  from  the  wisest  may  it  be  adju- 
dicated by  a  wiser. 

You  now  see  how  in  strict  sequence  follows  this 
conclusion,  —  that  God,  being  such  as  he  is,  and  the 
universe  such  as  it  is,  the  claims  of  justice  must  be 
strictly  and  clearly  complied  with  before  the  milder 
virtues  of  his  character  can  find  opportunity  for  ex- 


DIVINE  JUSTICE.  1G9 

ercise.  Sin,  of  all  degrees,  does  so  hurt  the  inherent 
\irtue  of  God,  and  resist  his  righteousness,  that  the 
integrity  and  perfection  of  his  nature  cannot  stand 
unless  he  vindicates  and  satisfies  the  judicial  element 
of  his  government.  The  executive  energies  of  God 
can  no  more  fail  to  vindicate  the  rectitude  of  his 
decrees  by  enforcing  them  than  a  sheriff  can  re- 
main-faithful to  his  oath,  who,  out  of  pit}T,  refuses  to 
commit  a  condemned  prisoner  to  jail.  The  decisions 
of  the  Divine  Mind  are  no  less  sure  to  be  executed 
because  God  himself  is  his  own  executive.  The 
Eternal  cannot  rebel  against  his  own  nature,  or 
refuse,  under  whatever  stress  of  circumstance,  to 
enforce  his  own  long  and  clearly  published  decrees. 
God  cannot  be  false  to  himself,  and  remain  himself. 
It  was  this  consideration  which  shut  the  gates  of  Para- 
dise against  our  first  parents,  and  barred  them  forever 
to  us,  their  children.  When  he  had  once  decided 
upon  the  penalty  of  death  as  the  fitting  award, 
should  Adam  disobey  his  command,  death,  and  noth- 
ing short,  must  inevitably  be  Adam's  fate  after  he 
disobeyed.  To  obey  or  transgress  was,  with  our  first 
parents,  optional.  The  fullest  ability  to  do  either 
was  necessarily  theirs  ;  but,  once  having  transgressed, 
nothing  short  of  the  annihilation  of  God's  essence 
could  prevent  the  penalty  from  being  inflicted.  Thu  = 
it  came  about  that  Adam  was  ejected  Eden  because  of 
his  disobedience ;  and  on  him,  and  on  all  his  descend 
ants,  spiritual  alienation  and  death  fell.  The  eternal 
principle  of  God's  government  had  been  violated,  and 
his  inward  virtue  outraged  ;    and  the  essential   ele- 


170  DIVINE   JUSTICE. 

ments  of  either  held  him  to  a  strict  execution  of  the 
sentence,  in  order  that  his  authority  might  be  vindi- 
cated, and  the  grievous  slight  put  upon  his  nature 
made  good. 

My  friends,  centuries  have  multiplied  themselves 
into  ages  since  the  day  Adam's  sentence  was  pro- 
nounced ;  but  each,  as  you  all  know,  has  borne  wit- 
ness to  the  veracity  of  the  record.  Generations  have 
followed  each  other  in  countless  succession,  and  suc- 
cessively have  the  pomp  and  pride  and  beauty  of 
each  vanished  away.  The  mausoleum  of  kings, 
sculptured  with  the  record  of  proud  deeds,  the  world 
to-day  notes  little  of ;  and  the  neglected  graves  of  the 
unhonored  bear  mournful  but  indisputable  witness 
to  the  impartial  execution  of  the  decree.  Nay,  we, 
even  at  so  vast  a  remove,  stand  under  the  shadow  of 
the  old  curse,  and  demonstrate  the  immutable  justice 
of  God  by  every  grave  we  dig.  The  cloud  rests  over 
us  yet ;  and  on  us  and  on  our  children  still  descend  pes- 
tilence and  death.  Like  exiled  Adam,  we,  too,  still 
stand  and  gaze  back  upon  our  Eden,  before  whose 
barred  gates  a  worse  than  naming  sword  waves  either 
way. 

In  the  iron  grasp  of  the  Eternal's  government,  more 
difficult  to  be  relaxed  than  to  the  ante-Christian  age 
appeared  the  relentless  hand  of  the  Fates,  do  we,  there- 
fore, as  individual  transgressors  of  that  government 
to-day  stand.  Between  the  decisions  against  sin,  of 
the  Supreme  Will  of  the  universe,  who  asks  not  our 
assent  to  his  decrees,  and  our  repeated  and  persistent 
dereliction,  #re  we  held  as  in  the  clamp  of  a  vise.    An 


DIVINE  JUSTICE.  171 

infinite  and  inexorable  pressure  is  thus  brought  to 
bear  upon  our  souls.  Under  the  ponderous  mountain 
of  our  own  guilt,  which  the  inflexible  justice  of  God 
cannot  lighten  by  a  single  ounce,  are  we  all,  left  to 
the  workings  of  a  just  and  holy  law,  being  slowly  yet 
surely  crushed  to  death.  The  pressure  is  but  slightly 
realized  in  this  life  :  but  each  year,  like  the  revolution 
of  a  screw,  adds  to  it ;  and,  operated  through  infinite 
ages,  the  closeness  of  it  will  finally  become  unendu- 
rable. 

What  chance  is  there,  then,  for  man  to  escape  ?  I  ap- 
peal to  every  impenitent  and  thoughtful  man  present, 
and  ask  him  to  point  out,  if  he  can,  some  path  by  which 
to  run  from  underneath  this  overhanging  and  slowly- 
settling  doom.  If  you  take  the  wings  of  the  morn- 
ing, and  fly  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  what 
will  it  avail  ?  Lo,  and  behold,  God  is  there !  Into 
what  depth  can  you  plunge,  or  into  what  height  can 
you  mount,  or  in  what  darkness  crouch,  where  the 
decision  of  God  will  not  find  you  ?  In  such  a  flight 
of  conscious  guilt  from  deserved  punishment  the  feet 
of  terror  itself  would  lag  like  a  snail's,  and  the  dark- 
est midnight  be  illumined  with  a  radiance  greater 
than  that  of  a  thousand  suns:  for  the  justice  of 
God  is  as  a  circumference  round  about  sin ;  and  the 
sinner  is,  and  continues  to  be,  wherever  he  goes,  the 
movable  centre  of  tortures,  out  of  which  he  can  never, 
of  himself  alone,  escape.  There  is  no  mask  nor  man- 
tle that  can  conceal  the  face  of  guilt  from  the  clear 
gaze  of  God.  The  timid  and  the  bold,  the  pure  and 
the  vile,  must  meet  him  at  last,  eye  to  eye. 


172  DIVINE  JUSTICE. 

If,  now,  neither  distance  nor  space,  nor  lapse  of 
time,  can  shield  you  from  the  wrath  of  a  holy  God, 
which  he  must  feel  while  he  remains  holy ;  if  at  every 
turn  you  make,  like  a  wounded  and  frightened 
deer,  you  run  against  your  foes,  and  are  brought  to 
bay;  if  neither  your  powers  of  body  nor  inventive 
cunning  can  break  through  the  deadly  toils  ;  if  you 
cannot  save  yourselves,  and  the  hour  draws  nigh  in 
which  you  will  stand  face  to  face  with  the  penalty,  — 
what  will  be  the  result  ?  I  hope  you  who  are  im- 
penitent in  this  audience  will  look  this  matter  in  the 
face  ;  for  it  will  do  no  good  to  shut  your  eyes,  and  re- 
fuse to  see  what  is  so  undeniably  drawing  near  to 
you. 

I  can  imagine  but  two  possible  contingencies.  I 
would  gladly  mention  others  did  they  exist. 

The  first  is,  that  God  will  lower  his  demands,  and 
yield  to  }^ou. 

I  mention  this,  not  because  I  deem  it  possible,  but 
because  I  know  men  in  your  position  comfort  them- 
selves with  false  hopes,  and  this  among  others,  and 
imagine  that  God  will,  out  of  pity,  be  less  severe  with 
you  than  some  believe.  It  has  been  the  object  of 
this  argument  to-day  to  meet  just  such  errors  by 
causing  you  to  realize  that  God's  government  is  not 
a  loose  congregation  of  powers,  but  a  compact  and 
immutable  system  ;  and  that  it  is  administered  in  strict 
harmony  with  invariable  principles  and  eternal  usage, 
and  not  with  emotional  impulse  and  the  accidental 
risings  of  merciful  sentiment.  And  this,  not  only 
what  I  have  advanced,  but  the  very  nature  of  things, 


DIVINE  JUSTICE.  173 

proves.  For  who  is  so  insane  as  to  imagine  that  God 
at  this  late  clay  (if  I  may  so  speak)  will  revoke  the 
decisions  made  at  the  birth  of  man,  ignore  the  past 
policy  of  his  administration,  and  slight  the  imperative 
requirements  of  his  government  ?  Who  is  fool  enough 
to  argue,  that  for  his  sake,  worm  that  he  is,  the  Crea- 
tor and  Preserver  of  worlds  will  cease  to  rule  in  ac- 
cordance with  those  strict  principles  of  rectitude, 
which  he,  at  the  birth  of -time,  decreed  as  the  un- 
changeable laws  of  the  universe  ?  And,  moreover,  not 
alone  the  nature  of  things  and  immutable  govern- 
ment of  God  forbid  this,  but  the  security  of  the  heav- 
enly world,  and  the  protection  of  those  pure  beings 
who  either  from  this  or  other  globes  have  entered  into 
the  celestial  glory,  require  that  none  but  perfectly 
sinless  beings  ever  be  admitted  into  their  sainted  cir- 
cles. Be  assured,  friends,  that,  while  the  heavens 
stand,  the  angels  of  God  will  never  be  disturbed. 
Into  that  vast  multitude,  composed  of  saint  and  ser- 
aph, no  guile  can  ever  enter.  On  the  banks  of  the 
river  of  life  none  but  stainless  feet  can  walk.  Though 
a  thousand  races  like  ours  should  perish,  yet  the  pu- 
rity of  the  heavens  must  be  kept  from  stain,  and 
their  marvellous  peace  eternally  preserved. 

Nor  will  a  generous  nature  desire  it  to  be  other- 
wise. Though  we  lay  on  our  dying-beds,  and  felt 
that  the  first  hour  after  death  would  be  the  first  of 
an  endless  torture,  yet  would  we  say,  "Let  thine 
angels,  O  Lord!  remain  happy,  though  we  be  lost, 
and  thy  heavens  give  protection  only  to  the  pure, 
albeit  we,  and  such  as  we,  be  exiled  forever  from  theii 
blessed  abodes." 


174  DIVIDE   JUSTICE. 

If,  then,  the  nature  of  God's  decrees  and  the  safety 
of  the  heavenly  world  alike  forbid  and  make  impossi- 
ble any  change  in  his  administrations  of  things,  and 
if  the  demands  of  the  divine  and  holy  law  cannot  be 
in  the  least  abated,  or  its  execution  delayed,  surely 
but  one  alternative  remains :  as  he  can  not  and  will 
not  yield  to  you,  you  must  either  accept  his  terms,  or 
incur  the  consequences  of  refusal.  What  his  demands 
are,  you  all,  every  one  of  you,  are  fully  aware.  They 
are  briefly  summed  up  in  the  formula  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, "  Except  a  man  repent  and  believe,  he  cannot 
see  the  kingdom  of  heaven ; "  and  again,  in  those 
other  words  of  the  Saviour  when  he  said,  "  He  that 
believeth  on  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he 
live." 

This  is  the  glory  of  the  atonement,  that  those  who 
were  sunk  in  sin,  and  irretrievably  ruined,  should, 
by  its  conditions,  be  treated  as  sinless  in  the  eye  of 
God. 

It  is  only  when  you  contemplate  the  crucifixion 
of  Christ,  with  the  inky  blackness  of  God's  wrath, 
merited  by  every  transgressor,  forming  the  back- 
ground, that  you  behold  the  glory  of  the  scene.  It 
is  only  by  considering  the  race,  each  and  all,  as 
individuals  lying  hopelessly  in  condemnation,  with 
generation  after  generation  surging,  wave-like,  to  their 
doom,  —  the  cradles  of  the  children  growing  yearly 
more  defiled,  and  the  graves  of  the  aged  yearly  more 
hopless,  —  that  any  soul  can  intelligently  be  thank- 
ful for  what  God  has  done  for  the  children  of  men. 
But,  friends,  when  one  thus  stands  looking  back  over 


DIVINE  JUSTICE.  175 

the  ruins  of  a  lost  world,  —  lost  to  God  and  holiness, 
yea,  and  even  to  virtue  and  decency,  —  he  realizes  the 
emphasis  of  the  angelic  song  that  hailed  the  advent 
of  a  Saviour  to  this  earth.  To  them  it  was  a  proof 
that  Satan  should  not  triumph  even  in  little.  Him 
whom  heaven  had  ejected,  earth  should  eject.  His 
ambition  should  be  thwarted  in  its  highest  and  lowest 
aim.  Neither  the  throne  nor  the  footstool  of  God 
should  be  unto  him  as  a  reward  or  possession.  As 
his  foot  had  never  touched  the  one,  so  should  every 
trace  of  its  imprint  be  washed  from  the  other. 

No :  let  no  one  who  dwarfs  the  justice  of  God  say 
that  he  can  understand  his  mercy ;  for  never,  save 
as  he  ponders  the  inexorable  nature  of  justice,  which, 
though  a  favorite  race  lay  dying,  yet,  true  to  its 
righteous  instincts,  stood  inflexible,  as  she  of  the 
scales  and  blinded  eyes  in  ancient  story,  saying 
the  one  unalterable  sentence,  "  Without  the  shed- 
ing  of  blood  there  can  be  to  man  no  remission," 
and  when,  obedient  to  this  cry,  —  the  sublimity  of 
which  angels  can,  if  man  cannot,  appreciate,  —  he 
sees  the  Son  of  God  rise,  and,  descending  from  his 
throne,  offer  himself  in  sacrifice  for  man,  does  the 
atonement,  in  all  its  majestic  proportions,  break  upon 
him  ;  and,  filled  with  adoring  admiration,  he  exclaims, 
"  Blessing  and  honor  and  glory  and  power  be  unto 
Him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  unto  the 
Lamb,  for  ever  and  ever !  " 

But,  if  the  justice  of  God  cannot  allow  those  who 
are  guilty  to  go  unpunished,  it  cannot,  on  the*  other 
hand,  permit  the  righteous  to  go  unrewarded.     The 


176  DIVINE  JUSTICE. 

same  immutability  which  places  the  one  beyond  a 
doubt  necessitates  the  other. 

And  when  we  consider  that  the  sins  of  the  Christian 
have  already  been  punished  in  his  surety  Christ,  <and 
though  without  any  inherent  righteousness  himself, 
yet  by  a  derived  righteousness,  he  is  made  holy,  we 
behold  on  what  a  reliable  basis  the  expectation  of  the 
believer  rests.  In  such  a  one  we  behold  the  triumph- 
ant \indication  of  the  vicarious  sufferings  and  death 
of  Christ.  "  If  I  have  fled  to  the  cross  for  refuge,"  he 
may  say,  "  and  sincerely  pleaded,  with  faith,  forgive- 
ness through  his  blood,  my  hold  on  everlasting  life  is 
too  strong  for  any  power  to  loosen."  If,  through  the 
conviction  and  impelling  power  of  the  Spirit,  a  man's 
life  has,  at  last,  been  placed  in  harmony  with  the 
divine  desires,  and  grown  under  heavenly  influence 
in  holy  graces,  we  can  conceive  of  no  combination  of 
evils  strong  enough  to  resist  its  ultimate  and  har- 
monious union  with  God.  The  death  of  Christ  hav- 
ing blotted  out  the  handwriting  of  ordinance  that 
was  against  us,  he  himself  having  taken  them  out 
of  the  way  and  nailed  them  to  his  cross  when  he 
died,  the  great  wall  which  formerly  separated  the 
race  from  God  being  now  broken  down,  razed,  utterly 
demolished,  and  over  its  ruins  a  strait  and  narrow 
way  having  been  mapped  out  in  which  our  feet  can 
tread,  such  as  faithfully  follow  in  it,  I  make  no 
doubt,  will  at  last  enter  in  through  the  gate,  and 
share  in  the  delights  of  angels. 

O  Justice  !  thou  art  beautiful.  Calm  and  majestic 
is  thy  face.     No  passion  ruffles,  no  anger  darkens  it 


DIVINE  JUSTICE.  177 

with  a  frown.  Beautiful  are  thy  closed  lids,  and  that 
nice  sense  of  equity  making  a  law  unto  thyself,  for- 
bidding thee  to  see  either  poor  or  rich,  high  or  low, 
guilty  or  guiltless,  lest  peradventure  pity  or  fear  might 
make  thee  untrue  to  thyself,  and  thou  shouldst  die 
killed  by  thy  first  wrong  act.  Beautiful  are  thy 
garments  of  faultless  drapery,  thy  rounded  arm  ex- 
tended, and  thy  hand  of  snow  grasping  the  balanced 
scales.  No  wonder  that  the  ancients  worshipped 
thee  ;  no  wonder  that  they  enthroned  thee  among  the 
number  of  their  gods.  The  human  mind  cannot 
think  of  Deity,  and  not  think  of  thee.  O  Justice ! 
hear  thou  our  prayer  in  heaven,  thy  birthplace  and 
the  place  of  thy  abode.  Descend  to-day,  and  stand 
before  this  people.  Thou  art  needed  in  our  market- 
places ;  thou  art  needed  in  our  courts ;  thou  art 
needed  in  our  capitols ;  yea,  and  in  our  churches 
also  art  thou  needed.  Come  clothed  with  a  beauty 
beyond  the  symmetry  in  which  the  chisel  of  the 
Greeks  carved  thee,  beyond  the  majesty  that  made 
the  canvas  of  the  masters  that  bore  thy  likeness  im- 
mortal, beyond  what  we  of  this  careless  generation 
know  or  dream  of  fitness,  and  stand  revealed  before 
us.  Come  not  alone,  but  bring  thy  sister  Mercy  ; 
and  standing  here  in  this  attentive  presence,  with 
thy  left  hand  holding  Mercy  by  her  right,  thy  right 
holding  forth  the  scales,  let  thy  voice,  mingling  with 
hers,  making  sweet  music  by  the  union,  be  heard  of 
every  ear,  saying,  "  Here  we  stand,  twin-attributes 
of  God,  born,  in  one  birth,  of  his  love,  appointed  each 
unto  our  mission,  —  the  one  to  protect  the  innocent, 

8* 


178  DIVINE  JUSTICE. 

the  other  to  plead  for  the  guilty  among  men."  Then 
will  this  people  say  of  thee,  "O  God!  "  —  and  the 
sound  shall  bear  the  joy  of  their  hearts  upon  it  as  the 
great  wave  bears  up  the  snowy  ornament  of  its  white 
foam,  —  "  justice  and  judgment  are  the  habitation  of 
thy  throne." 


SABBATH  MORNING,  MAY  7,  1871. 


SERMON. 


SUBJECT. -THE  JUDICIAL   ELEMENT  IN    HUMAN   NATURE  AND   PRACTICE 
"And  I   saw  the  dead,  smali,  and  great,  stand  before  God; 

AND  THE  BOOKS  WERE  OPENED;  AND  ANOTHER  BOOK  WAS  OPENED,  WHICH 
IS  THE  BOOK  OF  LIFE;  AND  THE  DEAD  WERE  JUDGED  OUT % OF  THOSE 
THINGS     WHICH    WERE    WRITTEN     IN      THE      BOOKS,      ACCORDING     TO     THEIR 

works."  —  Rev.  xx.  12. 

CERTAIN  exceptions  have  been  taken  by  some 
who  heard  the  discourse  of  last  sabbath  morn- 
ing, in  which  you  remember  I  spoke  of  the  justice  of 
God  as  an  element  of  his  government  and  the  rule 
of  his  conduct,  on  the  ground  that  it  made  him  ap- 
pear harsh  and  unlovely ;  and  if  such  an  attribute  in 
any  such  forceful  activity  as  I  described  did  exist, 
still  the  mass  of  men  would  not  appreciate  the  neces- 
sity of  it,  nor  understand  the  service  it  may  serve  in 
the  divine  economy.  These  strictures,  I  judge,  were 
in  the  main  honestly  made,  and  convinced  me  that 
I  should  do  well  to  make  in  another  discourse  the 
application  of  the  principles  discussed  in  the  first. 
This  I  will,  with  your  permission,  proceed  to  do  ;  and, 
that  you  may  the  better  remember  what  I  have  to 
say,  I  will  epitomize  it  in  the  form  of  a  topic,  —  the 
judicial  element  in  human  nature  and  practice. 

179 


180  THE  JUDICIAL   ELEMENT 

I  call  your  attention,  then,  in  the  first  place,  to  what 
I  think  will  appear  to  all  of  you,  upon  inspection,  to 
be  true,  that  society  is  organized  upon  a  judicial  basis. 
Man,  the  intelligent  agent  and  observer,  judges  man. 
Every  artist  in  this  city  judges  all  his  fellow-artists. 
His  art  gives  hirn  a  standard,  by  which  he  mentally 
approves  or  condemns  every  picture  he  examines. 
Man,  as  an  author,  judges  authors.  He  reads  a  book 
as  a  jury  hears  a  case,  discriminatingly  probing  and 
sifting  it.  So  it  is  with  you  all.  You  sit  in  judg- 
ment on  every  book  you  read,  every  picture  you  see, 
every  orator  you  hear.  You  are  now  sitting  in  judg- 
ment on  this  sermon  and  on  me.  You  cannot  help 
it ;  you  would  be  stupid  if  you  could.  So  long  as  it 
shall  be  natural  for  you  to  think,  you  will  be  judges. 

I  have  been  greatly  interested  in  the  line  of  thought 
here  suggested.  I  was  surprised  to  see  to  what 
depths  and  heights  this  principle  applied.  I  could 
trace  the  line  of  application  from  the  very  bottom 
to  the  top  of  human  relation.  Wherever  you  find 
combination,  wherever  association,  there  you  find  the 
judicial  sentiment  cropping  out.  Even  in  children 
and  childish  amusements  you  discern  it.  The  games 
of  the  parlor  and  play-ground  have  a  judicial  rela- 
tion. Let  a  boy  at  marbles  overstep  a  certain  line, 
disobey  a  certain  rule,  and  listen  to  the  clamor ! 
What  an  uproar  there  is  !  How  urgent  the  protest, 
how  severe  the  condemnation  !  Every  boy,  on  the 
instant  that  the  rule  is  infringed,  becomes  a  judge, 
and  the  culprit  is  made  to  feel  the  weight  of  deserved 
judgment.     Come  up  higher.     Contemplate  a  group 


IN  HUMAN  NATURE  AND  PRACTICE.  181 

of  ladies  and  gentlemen  engaged  in  some  social  game, 
whist  or  chess,  or  whatever  you  please.  One  of  the 
party  makes  a  doubtful  move,  or  plays  out  of  his  or- 
der. The  error  is  instantly  detected.  His  attention 
is  called  to  his  mistake.  He  persists.  The  book  of 
reference  is  produced,  the  rule  read  ;  and  he  stands 
condemned.  He  set  himself  consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously against  the  judicial  sentiment,  the  sentiment 
of  law,  of  equity,  of  fair  play  ;  and  it  asserted  itself, 
and  its  assertion  was  natural  and  spontaneous. 

I  was  passing  a  marble-yarcl  the  other  day.  I 
leaned  against  the  fence,  and  watched  the  workmen. 
A  man  near  me  was  hewing  away  at  a  block.  He 
was  sharpening  an  angle.  At  every  dozen  strokes 
he  would  pause,  and  apply  an  instrument.  And  what 
did  that  mean,  pray  ?  He  was  bringing  his  work  to 
judgment,  I  respond.  He  knew  that  by  his  works 
he  should  at  last  be  judged,  and  he  was  securing 
himself  against  condemnation  in  that  hour.  He  was 
a  judge,  you  see,  unto  himself. 

You  perceive,  friends,  that  the  judicial  element  is 
not  novel  to  man.  Its  application  is  a  matter  of  in- 
dividual and  daily  experience.  It  is  outside  the 
Bible  as  well  as  inside  of  it.  It  is  not  a  harsh  and 
unlovely  sentiment,  but  a  protective  and  salutary 
one.  Man  resorts  to  it  as  to  a  friend.  He  uses  it 
freely  both  as  regards  himself  and  others.  In  art,  in 
literature,  in  social  life,  society  demands  and  pro- 
nounces law  and  judgment.  It  may  truly  be  called 
the  habit  of  man's  nature. 

Now,  friends,  I  ask,  if,  in  the  simple  relations  and 


182  THE  JUDICIAL  ELEMENT 

comparatively  insignificant  acts  of  life,  men  pronounce 
judgment,  have  resort  to  the  judicial  attribute,  why 
object  to  the  same  course  in  matters  complex  and  im- 
portant ?  If  the  laborer  cannot  even  saw  a  stick  of 
timber,  or  hew  a  block  of  marble,  unless  he  makes 
repeated  application  of  the  judicial  sentiment,  how, 
think  you,  can  he  shape  his  character,  control  his  pas- 
sions, and  govern  his  conduct,  without  comparing  it 
daily  and  hourly  with  the  standard  of  absolute  recti- 
tude ?  Why,  look  at  your  civil  structure.  What  does 
the  magistrate  symbolize  ?  What  does  every  act  of 
legislation  signify  ?  Are  these  any  thing  save  the 
embodiment  of  this  judicial  element  extant  in  society  ? 
Is  not  law,  in  its  very  essence,  a  judgment  against 
wrong  ?  Every  member  of  your  legislature  is  a  man 
sitting  in  judgment.  The  man  who  sat,  pen  in  hand, 
following,  with  unappreciated  patience  and  skill,  the 
"proof"  of  this  discourse,  was  a  judge  :  his  position, 
his  duty,  made  him  such.  And  so  it  is  everywhere, 
in  every  branch  of  business,  in  every  association  of 
life.  Wherever  you  look,  there  you  behold  law ; 
where  law  is,  whether  executed  or  unexecuted,  there 
you  behold  judgment. 

Why  then,  friends,  do  men  wonder  and  cry  out 
because  God  does  the  very  same  thing  that  they  are 
constantly  doing  ?  Why  marvel  that  he  should  judge 
the  very  things  that  they  approve  or  condemn  ?  Is 
not  intelligence  in  its  nature  everywhere  the  same  ? 
Is  not  the  moral  sense  the  same  ?  If  man  is  necessa- 
rily a  judge  because  he  is  endowed  with  moral  per- 
ception, must  not  He  in  whom  this  perception  exists 


IN  HUMAN  NATURE  AND  PRACTICE.  183 

in  infinite  measure  be  a  judge  also  ?  Where  is  the 
illogical  position,  then,  in  a  discourse  setting  forth  the 
judicial  element  in  the  divine  nature  and  government  ? 
If  you  cannot  conduct  your  business,  if  you  cannot 
engage  in  a  social  game,  if  boys  even  in  play  can- 
not proceed  without  acknowledging  some  standard  of 
equity,  who  is  he  in  this  congregation  who  can  imagine 
that  the  Supreme  Being,  the  God  and  Ruler  of  all, 
the  Source  of  all  law,  the  very  Spirit  of  order,  can 
carry  on  his  vast  and  intricate  administration  without 
constant  reference  to  a  standard  of  judgment  touching 
what  he  sees  and  hears  going  on  in  his  presence  ?  Can 
a  father  be  a  father,  and  not  be  a  judge  as  well  ?  Does 
not  the  parental  office  and  relation  imperatively  de- 
mand the  possession,  and,  when  occasion  occurs,  the 
exercise,  of  the  judicial  element  ?  Can  a  king  be  a 
king  with  no  power  to  decide,  with  no  faculty  to  dis- 
criminate ?  Could  God  be  God,  and  not  be  a  judge  ? 
Must  not  "justice  and  judgment "  eternally  be  "the 
habitation  of  his  throne  "  ? 

But  we  have  not  as  yet  reached  the  end  to  this  line 
of  thought.  Push  the  analysis  farther,  cut  in  closer 
to  the  heart  of  the  subject,  and  you  find  richer  juices 
still.  I  am  showing,  bear  in  mind,  how  truly  natural 
is  the  judicial  sentiment  to  man ;  how  thoroughly 
wonted  he  is  to  it  by  daily  exercise ;  that  it  is  not  a 
novel  but  a  familiar  attribute  of  intelligence  ;  that 
it  exists  not  alone  in  God,  not  alone  in  the  Bible,  not 
alone  in  the  orthodox  scheme  of  salvation,  but  also 
in  man  as  man,  as  a  human  being,  as  a  moral  agent ; 
and  that  it  not  only  exists  in  him,  but  exists  in  the 
state  and  condition  of  constant  exercise. 


184  THE  JUDICIAL  ELEMENT 

I  have  called  your  attention,  in  proof  of  this,  to  your 
statutory  and  written  laws,  which  could  have  had  no 
other  parentage  or  cause  than  this  judicial  sense  in 
man.  But  this  is  not  all.  Lift  your  eyes  from  the 
written  page,  and  look  abroad.  Come  forth  from  the 
court  of  justice,  which,  in  all  its  forms  and  actors,  is 
but  an  embodiment  of  that  sense  of  law  and  judgment 
which  God  has  implanted  in  every  human  breast,  and 
behold  a  yet  more  powerful  manifestation  of  this  sen- 
timent. Here  you  stand  face  to  face  with  the  great 
unwritten  law  of  society,  —  a  law  which  both  adver- 
tises and  enforces  itself,  —  public  opinion.  This  law 
has  never  been  codified  ;  it  has  never  been  printed  in 
type  ;  never  been  filed  for  safe  keeping  in  the  ar- 
chives of  the  state  or  nation :  nevertheless,  it  is  rec- 
ognized and  felt  as  a  judicial  force  in  society.  It  is 
the  unwritten,  common  law  of  humanity,  perpetuated 
by  tradition,  by  memory,  by  the  moral  sense  of  each 
generation.  It  holds  no  court ;  and  yet  its  sitting  is 
constant.  Its  court-room  is  the  parlor,  the  office,  the 
car,  the  street,  the  public  assembly,  and  wherever  men 
or  women  meet  to  discuss  and  converse.  It  has  no 
official  existence  ;  and  yet  it  is  stronger  than  all  your 
judges,  stronger  than  your  police,  stronger  than  your 
legislature.  It  employs  no  officers  ;  and  yet,  once  on  a 
man's  track,  it  follows  him  through  all  the  labyrinth  of 
his  wanderings,  hunting  him  down  with  a  persistency 
and  vigilance  baffled  or  appeased  only  with  the  loss 
of  his  identity.  It  builds  no  prisons,  and  has  need  of 
none  ;  for  it  is  able  to  make  the  whole  world  a  jail,  and 
every  member  of  the  community  a  detective  to  restrain 


IN  HUMAN   NATURE   AND   PRACTICE.  185 

and  watch  the  suspected  person.  The  sentences  that 
your  courts  pronounce  upon  criminals  vary  in  dura- 
tion of  time  ;  but  the  condemnation  that  public  opinion 
puts  upon  a  man  is  for  life.  Whenever  and  wher- 
ever his  face  is  seen,  men  point  it  out  invidiously ; 
whenever  his  name  is  mentioned,  it  is  mentioned  with 
execration,  or  in  a  whisper,  as  a  sound  unfit  for  utter- 
ance. The  best  that  friendship  can  do  is  to  strive  to 
forget  his  aberration  ;  and  Love  herself  can  do  no 
more  than  to  cover  the  face  of  the  erring  with  her 
mantle,  and  bear  the  pain  of  recollection  in  silence. 

This,  friends,  briefly  and  imperfectly  described,  is 
what  society  calls  public  opinion  ;  but  which  in  fact, 
when  analyzed,  is  seen  to  be  nothing  save  the  un- 
written, common  law  of  the  soul  ;•  the  daily,  unnoted 
exercise  of  the  judicial  element  in  human  nature, 
which  makes  every  man,  without  any  election  of  his 
own,  a  judge. 

My  friends,  this  is  right.  None  of  you  object  to 
this.  Society  must  discriminate  between  the  evil  and 
the  good ;  the  line  of  moral  rectitude  must  be  kept 
white  ;  even  among  thieves,  honesty  must  exist ;  a 
kind  of  judicial  standard  must  be  acknowledged. 
When  moral  discrimination  shall  no  longer  be  made, 
moral  security  will  no  longer  exist.  What  nation 
can  endure  without  courts  or  any  provision  for  arbi- 
tration ?  How  can  honest  trade  and  legitimate  com- 
merce thrive  without  that  protection  found  alone  in 
judicial  application  ?  How  could  any  virtuous  society 
continue  when  virtue  has  no  indorsement,  and  vice 
no   condemnation  ?     Let  it   be   known   among    the 


186  THE  JUDICIAL  ELEMENT 

thieves  of  this  city  that  no  penalty  awaits  their  thiev- 
ing; tell  that  most  despicable  embodiment  of  all 
knavery,  the  forger,  that  he  can  forge  drafts  with  im 
punity  ;  tell  the  miser  that  usury  is  legitimate,  and 
that  he  can  fill  his  Heaven-condemned  coffers  by  traf- 
fic in  the  necessities  and  misfortunes  of  his  neighbors  ; 
say  to  the  covetous  man,  "  Reach  out  your  hand  and 
take  what  you  will  of  your  neighbors,  no  harm  shall 
come  to  you  ;  "  say  to  the  tyrant,  "  Withhold  not  your 
heel  from  the  bruised  and  bleeding  neck  of  the  down- 
trodden ;  "  say  to  the  slave-master,  "  Scourge,  debauch, 
kill,  as  many  as  you  please,  Justice  is  dead ;  "  tell  all 
the  hard-hearted,  the  selfish,  the  cruel,  the  lustful,  tell 
revenge,  tell  tyranny,  tell  those  slanders  upon  human- 
ity whose  bodies  are  full  of  brutal  and  devilish  in- 
stincts, that  no  judicial  crisis  shall  ever  occur  in  human 
history  ;  that  there  shall  never  be  an  hour  of  reckon- 
ing, never  any  check  and  judgment,  any  penalty, 
to  them,  for  all  their  doings,  be  they  what  they  may,  — 
and  wickedness  of  every  order  and  degree  would  re- 
ceive the  announcement  with  yells  of  infernal  delight : 
even  hell  would  be  shocked  out  of  its  despair,  and 
heave  itself  in  a  tumult  of  joy,  saying,  "  We  have  tri- 
umphed !  we  have  triumphed  !  Man,  at  last,  is  ours  ; 
and  the  earth,  which  we  fancied  was  to  be  the  Lord's, 
is  to  us  for  a  possession,  to  have  and  hold,  and  fill 
with  wickedness  forever."  Under  such  an  advertise- 
ment, all  moral  distinctions  would  be  reversed  ;  and 
patriotism,  honesty,  purity  itself,  become  criminal ; 
yea,  Virtue  would  die,  and  Hope,  finding  no  spot  on 
which  to  rest  her  foot,  would  return,  as  the  dove  to 
the  ark,  to  the  bosom  of  God. 


IN  HUMAN   NATURE  AND   PRACTICE.  187 

But  send  forth,  with  all  the  force  of  a  soul  inspired 
with  the  sublime  and  holy  instincts  of  justice,  —  send 
forth,  I  say,  another  and  a  different  proclamation :  say 
to  the  slave,  "  My  brother,  thou  shalt  yet  be  free  ;  "  to 
the  oppressed  say,  "  Rise  in  the  majesty  of  that  might 
which  insulted  manhood  knows,  and  liberty  shall  be 
yours ; "  tell  tempted  and  trampled  Purity  that  her 
cause  shall  yet  be  heard ;  tell  the  hypocrite  that  he 
shall  one  day  be  unmasked,  and  the  leer  and  cunning 
of  his  pallid  face  be  revealed ;  let  the  trumpet  sound 
forth  a  warning  to  all  who  do  wickedness,  that  an 
hour  cometh,  yea,  is  even  nigh  to  them,  when  they 
must  stand  before  a  just  tribunal,  and  be  judged  for 
the  deeds  that  they  have  done,  —  and  the  message, 
riding  the  gale  like  a  thunder-gust,  will  make  the 
guilty  quake,  put  a  restraint  upon  the  evil,  and  make 
the  righteous  glad  with  an  exceeding  joy :  Virtue  will 
come  forth  from  her  sepulchre,  revived,  re-animated, 
no  more  to  know  death ;  and  Hope,  her  pinions  re- 
bathed  in  heavenly  sheen,  will  again  fan  our  atmos- 
phere, her  wings  bringing  light,  and  her  voice  charm- 
ing away  the  sadness  of  the  world. 

If,  now,  any  should  say,  "  If  law,  if  public  opinion, 
if  the  judicial  element,  are,  as  you  assert,  thus  poten- 
tially in  the  world,  if  the  guilty  are  thus  condemned 
and  punished  in  this  life,  what  need  is  there  of  pun- 
ishment hereafter  ?  If  man's  judgment  is  thus  strict, 
searching,  and  severe,  why  should  a  divine  judgment 
be  superadded  ?  " 

To  this  objection  in  the  form  of  a  query  many 
satisfactory  answers  might  be  made.  I  suggest  —  for 
my  time  is  limited  —  only  this  one  ;  viz. :  — 


188  THE  JUDICIAL  ELEMENT 

In  this  objection  a  vital  distinction  is  overlooked,  — 
that  society  does  and  can  judge  only  the  act,  while 
God  does  and  must  judge  the  heart.  By  its  judg- 
ments, society  seeks  chiefly  physical  protection  ;  but 
God  seeks  rather  spiritual  defence.  The  one  seeks 
the  preservation  of  that  order  which  its  peace  and 
temporal  prosperity  demand;  the  other,  to  preserve 
the  integrity  of  the  universe,  and  keep  inviolate  the 
domain  of  purity.  That  part  of  sin  offensive  to  man 
is  but  a  tithe  of  its  offensiveness.  You  can  never 
understand  the  ugliness  of  sin  until  you  take  into 
account  its  offensiveness  to  God.  You  punish  a  man 
because  he  offends  some  rule  or  ordinance  of  the  city 
or  state ;  but  God  arrests  him  as  a  disturber  of  the 
universe,  a  transgressor  of  that  government,  under 
which,  as  a  maiden  beneath  the  covering  shield  of  her 
knightly  preserver,  the  innocent  and  pure  of  every 
realm  and  order  of  being  rest.  There  is  a  demerit 
in  sin  which  no  human  law  can  reach.  It  is  too  sub- 
tle, too  mighty.  The  enemy  lies  in  coiled  conceal- 
ment, silently  exulting  at  your  efforts  to  unmask  him. 
It  needs  the  touch  of  an  angelic  spear  to  shock  him 
out  of  his  disguise.  Men  find,  that,  after  they  have 
done  all  they  might  to  judge  and  destroy  evil,  more 
remains  unfinished  than  they  have  performed.  They 
have  only  examined  the  opening  passage  of  the  cav- 
ern :  the  inner  recess,  the  curved  extremity,  where 
the  monster  has  his  lair,  they  have  never  visited. 
Hence  they  feel  the  necessity  of  a  fuller  judgment, 
a  more  searching  investigation,  a  more  sweeping  and 
terrible   condemnation.      A  five-dollar  fine  and  six 


IN  HUMAN  NATURE  AND  PRACTICE.  189 

days  in  prison  are  not  enough  of  punishment  foi 
murder.  When  the  Bible  reveals,  therefore,  a  day  of 
judgment,  it  reveals  what  the  human  mind  of  itself  j 
perceives  to  be  a  necessity.  The  idea  of  a  judgment 
after  death  is  no  more  biblical  than  it  is  classical. 
Every  people  under  heaven  who  have  reached  any 
considerable  mental  expansion,  who  have  advanced 
far  enough  to  study  at  all  the  'problems  of  moral  re- 
sponsibility, of  justice  and  equity,  have  had  their; 
theory  of  a  judgment.  In  Persia,  in  Hindostan,  in 
India,  among  the  Egyptians,  in  the  mythology  of  the 
Greeks  and  Romans,  in  the  teachings  of  the  Druids, 
and  in  the  picturesque  faith  of  the  poor  Saxon-hunted 
Indian,  amorg  every  race  and  tribe,  the  idea  of  a 
judgment,  a  day  of  supreme  and  final  allotment  of 
the  good  and  the  bad,  has  been  prevalent.  The  Bible 
assertion  of  a  judgment-day,  instead,  therefore,  of 
doing  violence  to  human  feelings,  is  in  exact  har- 
mony with  them  ;  it  is  only  the  divine  and  authorita- 
tive announcement  of  what  the  universal  conscious- 
ness of  the  race  had  instinctively  conceived  must  be 
a  fact :  and  every  person  at  all  intelligent  and  candid 
yields  the  free,  unforced  assent  of  his  intellect  to  the 
statement  of  the  Scriptures,  that  "  God  shall  bring 
every  work  into  judgment,  with  every  secret  thing, 
whether  it  be  good,  or  whether  it  be  evil." 
•  The  doctrine  of  divine  justice,  therefore,  as  an 
element  of  God's  government,  and  the  rule  of  his 
conduct,  is  a  doctrine  not  only  acceptable  to,  but  de- 
manded by,  the  conscience  of  the  race.  It  is  the  ne- 
cessary supplement  to  the  moral  sense  in  man  ;  the  one 


190  THE  JUDICIAL  ELEMENT 

doctrine  in  which,  now  in  this  and  now  in  that  form, 
all  tribes  and  peoples  have  believed  and  accepted. 
Who  are  these,  then,  who  reject  it  to-day  ?  What  a 
philosophy  must  that  be  which  starts  out  not  only 
with  a  flat  denial  of  revelation,  but  an  ostentatious 
ignoring  of  what  the  wisdom  of  all  the  ancients 
taught !  Is  Jupiter  no  longer  to  grasp  the  bolt  ?  Is 
Zeus  to  be  enervated?  Is  Justice  henceforth  to 
stand  with  an  outstretched  arm,  noticeable  because 
her  nerveless  ringers  have  lost  their  hold  on  the  im- 
partial scales  ?  Is  the  best  thought  of  this  generation 
to  be  spent  to  invent  some  moral  accommodation  for 
thieves?  Has  modern  philosophy  no  object  of  ambi- 
tion save  to  dethrone  God?  Far  different  was  it 
with  that  ancient  culture,  which,  groping  in  darkness, 
guided  only  by  the  dim  light  of  an  uninspired  moral 
sense,  nevertheless  made  its  conception  of  Deity  a 
being  of  power,  the  refuge  of  the  innocent,  the 
terror  of  the  guilty.  When  Socrates  spoke^the  fool 
was  silenced,  and  the  guilt}?"  abashed.  When  Demos- 
thenes arose,  tyrants  trembled,  and  demagogues  turned 
pale.  When  the  slave  Epictetus  opened  his  lips, 
the  words  of  his  mouth  derived  their  marvellous  force 
from  their  harmony  with  the  eternal  principles  of 
right.  To  these  men  Justice  was  beautiful ;  and  the 
stroke  of  her  sword,  when  its  edge  smote  the  neck  of 
iniquity,  stirred  them  to  applause.  Shall  we  of  fuller 
knowledge  and  clearer  insight,  seeing  better  than 
these  its  divine  and  humane  connection,  —  shall  we,  I 
say,  divorce  the  judicial  element  in  God's  nature  and 
government  from  our  theology,  and  rob  our  philoso- 


IN  HUMAN  NATURE  AND   PRACTICE.  191 

phy  of  what  alone  makes  it  valuable  to  man,  —  the 
power  to  warn  the  wicked,  and  check  them  in  their 
iniquitous  courses  ? 

And  now,  friends,  let  us  return  to  the  words  of 
the  text :  "  I  saw  the  dead,  small  and  great,  stand 
before  God ;  and  the  books  were  opened ;  and  an- 
other book  was  opened,  which  is  the  book  of  life ; 
and  the  dead  were  judged  out  of  those  things  which 
were  written  in  the  books,  according  to  their  works." 

I  have  never  written  a  sermon  in  description  of 
the  judgment-day :  I  have  never  felt  able  to  do  it. 
I  have  been  little  profited  by  the  efforts  of  others 
to  describe  it.  The  subject  is  so  vast,  so  solemn,  so 
awful,  that  I  cannot  grasp  it.  In  a  dim  sort  of  way, 
I  have  imagined  it,  —  the  vast  multitude  filling  half 
of  heaven ;  the  throne  uplifted  in  the  midst ;  the  un- 
reserved revelation  of  life  made  by  each  when  ques- 
tioned ;  the  opened  books,  in  which  man  finds  every 
deed  and  thought  of  his  hands  and  heart  recorded ; 
the  word  of  verdict,  from  which  none  appeal;  the 
commotion  and  separation  as  some  pass  to  the  right, 
others  to  the  left,  of  the  throne  ;  the  onlooking  angels 
poising  on  steady  wings  like  a  great  white  cloud 
above  the  crowded  mass,  —  all  this,  in  a  dim  sort 
of  way,  I  repeat,  I  have  imagined ;  but  to  put  the 
picture  in  words  I  cannot.  Something  within  me 
cries  out,  "  Let  the  unseen  world  alone  :  your  utter- 
ance in  attempted  description  would  vulgarize  its 
august  appearances :  human  language  is  too  flippant 
to  fitly  express  its  solemnities :  attempt  not  a  knowl- 
edge that  you  cannot  have  until  the  issue  and  the 


192  THE  JUDICIAL  ELEMENT 

hour  reveal  it."  Vain  is  it,  friends,  for  man  to  seem 
wiser  than  he  is..  Vain  is  the  forced  solemnity  of 
tone,  the  studied  wildness  of  gesture,  the  lashing  of 
imagination  dignifying  its  spasms  with  the  name 
of  religious  exhortation.  The  solemnities  of  heaven 
are  solemn  only  to  the  silent.  Reverence  is  known 
only  to  the  bowed  head,  the  closed  lid,  and  the  lip 
moving  in  speechless  prayer  and  praise.  When  that 
dark  curtain  which  the  ancients  dreaded,  and  which 
conceals  so  much,  shall  be  rolled  up,  and  you  and  I, 
friends,  see  what  is  within  the  veil,  then  we  may 
speak,  if  speak  we  can,  of  what  to-day  God's  wisdom 
hides  ;  until  which  time,  with  the  signal  of  silence  on 
our  lips,  let  us  keep  the  attitude  of  reverence.  I 
shall  attempt  no  description,  therefore,  of  the  judg- 
ment :  I  leave  it  where  the  word  of  God  leaves  it,  — 
predicted,  asserted,  but  undescribed.  One  or  two 
reflections  will  suffice. 

1.  The  judgment  will  take  place.  You  and  I,  my 
hearers,  will  be  judged.  The  time  will  come  when 
we  must  stand  before  God  ;  when  all  the  acts  of  our 
lives  will  be  passed  in  review  by  him.  The  hour  is  to 
be  when  we  shall  feel  the  eye  of  the  All-seeing  fas- 
tened upon  us  ;  when  every  hidden  thought  and  secret 
imagination  and  fickle  fancy  will  be  uncovered  before 
the  gaze  of  Infinite  Purity  ;  when  the  plans  and  pur- 
poses of  our  lives  will  be  weighed,  and  our  profes- 
sions compared  with  our  performance  ;  when  what  we 
omitted  to  do  of  right,  as  truly  as  what  we  committed 
of  evil,  will  be  recounted  and  noted  by  the  Judge  ; 
when,  in  short,  friends,  we  shall  all  be  put  in  the 


IN  HUMAN  NATURE  AND  PRACTICE.  193 

balances,  and  weighed.  Who  is  it  in  this  audience 
to-day  who  feels  able  to  endure  that  scrutiny,  and 
bear  that  divine  inspection,  confident  that  he  will  be 
found  sufficient  in  that  balance?  Who  here  has 
omitted  no  duty,  committed  no  wrong,  transgressed 
no  law,  been  tainted  by  nature  or  indulgence  with 
no  impurity  ?  If  any,  let  him  rise,  and  say  to  us, 
44  Behold  a  perfect  man !  "  The  perfect  man  is  not 
here.  We  have  all  gone  astray  ;  we  are  all  lacking  ; 
we  are  all  guilty  before  God.  Even  our  own  con- 
sciences condemn  us ;  and,  if  our  imperfect  moral 
sense  convict  us,  how  shall  the  justice  of  God  say, 
"  Ye  are  all  blameless "  ?  It  can  not,  it  will  not. 
And  I  only  declare  what  you  all  know  to  be  true  when 
I  say,  "  We  are  condemned  already."  My  friends, 
what  shall  we  do  ?  When  Peter  was  preaching  at  the 
Pentecost,  the  multitude  was  so  convinced  of  the 
justice  of  God  and  their  guilt,  so  convicted  of  their 
sinfulness  before  the  law,  that  they  knew  not  which 
way  to  turn.  The  very  ground  seemed  to  be  heaving 
beneath  their  feet ;  and  they  cried  out,  "  Men  and 
brethren,  what  shall  we  do  ?  "  I  make  the  reply  of 
Peter  mine,  —  another  or  a  better  I  cannot  give,  for 
it  is  the  only  one  that  meets  your  emergency,  — 
44  Repent,  and  be  baptized,  every  one  of  you,  in  the' 
name  of  Jesus  Christ,  for  the  remission  of  sins,  and 
ye  shall  receive  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost." 

2.  The  value  of  Christ  is  never  realized  save  in 
moments  of  profound  conviction.  It  is  only  when 
the  tempest  beats  upon  us,  and  the  waves  threaten 
to  ingulf   us,  that  we   run   to   awake   him.      What 


194  THE  JUDICIAL  ELEMENT 

renders  a  philosophy  or  religion  which  fails  to  make 
divine  justice  a  prominent  feature  of  its  teaching  so 
dangerous  to  true  godliness  is,  that  it  necessarily  un- 
derrates the  need  of  a  Saviour.  Whatever  does  this 
is  calculated  to  deceive  men,  to  make  them  satisfied 
with  what  is  not  satisfactory  to  God,  and  discourage 
efforts  to  convert  men.  Why  need  the  surf-boat  be 
kept  constantly  manned  when  there  is  no  cloud  in 
the  sky,  and  no  wreck  in  the  harbor  ?  All  guilt  is 
comparative.  We  should  not  know  the  exceeding 
lightness  of  feathers  were  it  not  for  the  heaviness 
of  lead.  Sin  is  a  deflection  in  morals  from  the  line 
of  absolute  rectitude.  Any  thing  that  tends  to  wipe 
out  that  line,  to  erase  it,  or  shade  it  down,  so  that 
the  wicked  shall  not  see  it,  is,  to  the  full  measure  of 
expression,  evil ;  any  theology,  any  philosophy,  any 
theory  of  morals,  which  does  not,  in  all  its  teachings, 
insist  on  the  presence  and  exercise  of  absolute  jus- 
tice on  the  part  of  God  in  his  judgments  of  human 
conduct,  is  but  preparing  man  to  ignore  caution  and 
despise  warning,  is  but  making  the  road  along  which 
the  masses  of  the  future  shall  rush  to  moral  declen- 
sion both  broad  and  steep.  A  Godless  philosophy  is 
the  direst  curse  that  can  be  inflicted  upon  a  city  or 
nation.  Poor  bleeding  France,  her  body  mangled 
with  a  thousand  wounds,  each  wound  a  mouth,  is 
making  her  dying  protest  and  bearing  her  dying  tes- 
timony to-day  against  the  ignorance  of  priestly  rule 
on  the  one  hand,  and  an  atheistical  culture  on  the 
other.  Despising  the  justice  of  heaven,  they  have 
learned  to  trample  upon  the  justice  of  the  earth. 


IN  HUMAN  NATURE  AND  PEACTICE.  195 

To-day,  friends,  we  are  to  celebrate  in  a  me- 
morial service  the  death  of  Christ  when  in  his  own 
person  he  made  atonement  to  the  transgressed  law. 
Not  alone  the  love,  not  alone  the  mercy,  but  the  jus- 
tice of  God  also,  as  something  lovely  and  above  price, 
we  hold  in  remembrance  as  we  gather  to  the  table 
of  the  Lord.  I  say,  the  table  of  the  Lord  ;  for  so  is 
he  known  in  heaven,  and  so  shall  he  yet  be  known 
universally  on  earth.  Where  his  cross  stood,  his 
throne  shall  yet  stand ;  and  on  the  spot  of  his  mortifi- 
cation he  shall  rule  in  glory  and  power.  I  think  of  his 
second  coming  as  the  day  when  every  wrong  shall 
have  its  legitimate  redress ;  when  the  weak  whom 
none  now  respect  shall  be  defended,  and  the  cause  of 
his  people  everywhere  vindicated.  No  throne  of 
wickedness  shall  stand  in  the  day  when  his  is  build- 
ed,  no  form  of  iniquity  survive  the  onslaught  of 
his  energies,  no  sin  endure  in  the  presence  of  his 
holiness.  To  these  shall  he  be  what  the  fire  is  to  the 
dried  stubble.  They  shall  melt ;  they  shall  consume 
away. 

Come,  then,  thou  blessed  of  the  Father,  and  inherit 
the  kingdoms !  Smite  injustice  with  that  hand  that 
injustice  pierced.  Place,  with  the  majesty  of  motion 
all  thine  own,  the  crown  of  empire  on  thy  once  wound- 
ed head.  Around  thy  side,  once  riven  for  us,  let  the 
glory  of  thy  celestial  vesture  be  folded.  Tell  us  from 
what  point  of  the  heavens  thou  wilt  come,  that  we 
may  watch  for  thee  with  longing  eye  as  those  of 
old,  who,  wise  in  their  day  and  generation,  watched 
for  the   promised  star.     O  Lord,  our   Saviour !  we 


196  THE  JUDICIAL  ELEMENT. 

wait  for  thee.  Our  hearts  in  all  their  longings  in  the 
night-time  cry  out  for  thee.  In  the  language  of  that 
favored  one,  gifted  with  vision  beyond  his  state,  we 
say,  "  Come  quickly  :  "  first  wash  us  in  thy  blood, 
which  cleanseth  whiter  than  fullers'  soap,  that  we 
may  be  without  spot,  and  blameless,  as  those  shall 
be  who  welcome  thee ;  and  we  will  hail  thee  to  thy 
throne,  —  our  hearts  being  that  throne,  —  yea,  and  to 
thy  just  and  holy  sovereignty  over  all  mankind. 


SABBATH  MOBJflJVG,  MAT  14,  1871. 


SERMOK 


SUBJECT. -DEATH    A   GAIN. 

"  TO  DIE  IS  GAIN."— Phil.  i.  21. 

PAUL  is  here  speaking  from  the  high  standpoint 
of  Christian  experience.  It  is  not  as  a  natural, 
but  as  a  renewed  man,  that  he  speaks.  The  assertion 
is  not  the  boast  of  physical  courage  :  no  one  can  make 
it  appear  so.  It  is  the  exclamation  of  piety ;  the 
holy  confidence  of  one  who  "  knows  in  whom  he  has 
believed,"  and  whose  faith  in  the  blessedness  of  his 
future  condition  is  absolute. 

Nor  was  he  a  mere  theorist,  amusing  himself  in  safe- 
ty and  seclusion  with  poetical  speculations.  It  is  easy 
to  play  with  a  dreadful  event  when  it  is  remote. 
Even  a  child  watches  with  observant  delight  the 
thunder-gust  when  it  first  heaves  up  its  convoluted 
blackness  in  the  west,  —  a  moving  contortion  of  shad- 
ow, a  tumultuous  silence  ;  but  what  child  is  there  that 
does  not  run  screaming  into  the  house  when  the 
cloud  opens,  and  the  hot,  withering  bolt  rives  the 
air,  and  the  very  heavens  seem  to  recoil  and  stagger 
back  at  the  awful  explosion  ?     And  so  it  is  with  man 

197 


198  DEATH  A  GAIN. 

touching  the  matter  of  death.  So  long  as  he  is  well, 
and  physically  strong  ;  so  long  as  life  seems  secured 
to  him  for  years,  and  death  a  far-off  and  undefined 
event,  —  he  speaks  of  it  calmly,  carelessly  perhaps,  or, 
it  may  be,  with  unseemly  wit.  It  is  not  difficult,  in 
such  circumstances,  to  philosophize  with  calm  and 
polished  indifference  upon  death :  but  when  the 
event  is  no  longer  remote,  but  nigh  ;  when  the  cloud 
has  crept  upward  all  unperceived,  so  busy  has  he 
been,  and  the  first  he  beholds,  as  he  looks  up,  is  the 
ragged  edge  of  blackness  over  his  head,  and  the 
awful  gloom  growing  about  him,  and  he  knows  and 
feels  that  he  stands  a  target,  against  which  an  unseen 
and  deadly  bolt  is  being  directed,  which  he  cannot 
with  his  best  efforts  but  for  a  moment  or  two  avoid,  — 
then  it  is  that  the  man's  indifference  departs  ;  then 
it  is,  when  he  stands  with  his  feet  on  the  very  margin 
of  the  unknown,  that  he  blanches  ;  then  he  contem- 
plates with  awe  or  terror  the  approach  of  the  catas- 
trophe, which  never,  until  then,  had  to  his  eyes  the 
character  of  a  fact. 

Now,  when  the  apostle  wrote  the  sentence,  "  For 
to  me  to  die  is  gain,"  he  felt  that  he  was  nigh  the 
experience  of  which  he  spoke.  Death  could  not  ap- 
pear to  him  as  a  remote  event,  but  one  that  might 
come  to  him  at  any  hour.  He  was  in  prison,  and  amid 
all  the  uncertainties  of  such  a  position.  The  execu- 
tioner might  enter  his  cell  at  any  moment.  He  felt 
that  the  hour  of  his  martyrdom  was  drawing  nigh. 
He  was  writing,  as  it  were,  his  farewell  love-letter  to 
the  church,  which,  of  the  many  he  founded,  he  seems 


DEATH  A  GAIN.  199 

to  have  loved  the  best.  He  had  led  a  checkered  life, 
and  it  was  drawing  to  a  close.  The  future,  which  to 
those  about  him  was  as  a  gate  opening  into  blackness, 
rose  directly  in  front  of  him.  It  was  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, that,  sitting  in  his  lonely  cell,  he  calmly 
wrote  to  his  dear  children  in  Christ  at  Philippi,  "  To 
me  to  die  is  gain."  It  was  not  a  boast ;  it  was  not 
even  exultation:  it  was  only  a  statement,  but  a 
statement  in  which  all  the  forces  of  his  faith,  all  the 
fulness  of  his  hope,  all  the  longing  of  his  soul,  were 
centred.  It  was  as  the  sky  when  it  spreads  out  in 
calm,  motionless,  unruffled  blue ;  no  shade  of  jasper, 
no  tinge  of  azure,  in  it ;  but  here  and  there  a  deep- 
seated  star  shines  out,  and  the  gazer  feels  that  at  any 
moment  the  blue  may  break  into  orange,  and  the 
curtain  be  changed  to  the  color  of  the  outstreaming 
glory  behind  it. 

I  wish,  friends,  to-day,  to  examine  this  statement 
in  your  presence.  Let  us  reflect  upon  it  together. 
Let  us  see  why  and  how  it  is  that  dying  is  gain  to  a 
Christian. 

Allow  me  to  say,  to  start  with,  that  I  do  not  preach 
this  sermon  in  the  way  of  consolation  to  any.  It  was 
not  suggested  by  any  occurrence  of  bereavement  in 
the  parish.  It  is  not  a  "  funeral  "  sermon.  It  is  not 
seized  upon  as  a  happy  topic  to  "  impress  "  any  one. 
Nor  do  I  expect  it  to  be  a  specially  "  solemn  "  dis- 
course, in  contradistinction  to  any  delivered  on  other 
themes.  It  is,  as  I  conceive  of  it,  a  discourse  of 
doctrine,  of  instruction,  of  explanation  and  analysis, 
not   of  exhortation.      The  whitest  line  that  Christ 


200  DEATH  A  GAIN. 

drew  across  the  black  surface  of  his  time  was  that 
which  he  drew  in  his  teaching  and  demonstration 
concerning  death.  He  it  was  that  "led  captivity 
captive  ;  "  and  men  saw  with  amazement  the  king  of 
terrors,  spoiled  of  his  arms,  and  fettered,  walking  in 
the  train  of  his  triumph.  Previous  to  Christ,  the  grave 
was  a  mystery.  Like  a  damp,  subterranean  dungeon, 
it  dripped  with  horrors.  Men  went  to  the  mouth  of  it, 
peered  tremblingly  in,  saw  its  darkness,  felt  its  issuing 
chill  upon  their  faces,  shook  at  the  awful  suggestions 
of  its  silence,  and  fled.  Of  all  the  millions  that  had 
gone  down  into  it,  not  one  had  ever  returned.  It 
was  the  silent  shore  of  a  hidden  sea.  Ship  after  ship 
sailed  out  into  the  darkness  ;  but  how  and  whither  the 
watchers  knew  not,  for  never  had  an  inrolling  wave 
brought  back  even  so  much  as  a  tell-tale  fragment. 
Where  did  all  these  millions  go  ?  What  fortunes  fell 
to  them  ?  Was  there  another  life  ?  was  there  another 
and  a  brighter  shore,  not  songless,  beyond  the  gloomy 
line  ?  or  did  they  all  sail  into  great  abysses,  and  were 
swallowed  up  forever  ?  With  such  questions  men 
were  baffled ;  and  ignorance,  as  is  always  the  case, 
begat  superstitions.  Crude  and  horrible  fancies  filled 
the  world.  These  passed  into  literature  ;  and  the 
wildest  fantasies  became,  in  time,  standards  of  con- 
ception. Art  shared  in  the  delusion.  Death  was 
pictured  as  a  goblin  shape  brandishing  a  dreadful 
spear,  and  the  tomb  became  synonymous  with  dread. 
It  was  a  chasm  too  wide  for  men  to  jump.  Here  and 
there,  poetry  cast  a  silken  strand  across  it ;  stoicism 
bridged  it  with  indifference ;  and  the  old  astrologers 


DEATH  A  GAIN.  201 

passed  over  on  a  pathway  of  stars  :  but  to  the  mass 
it  was  an  abyss  ;  and  the  generations  in  a  steady 
stream  poured  over  into  it  as  into  some  Niagara  of 
fate,  and  were  lost  in  ghastly  spray. 

But,  when  Christ  came,  all  this  was  changed.  You 
remember  what  an  incredible  saying  it  was  to  the 
disciples,  that  he  "  should  be  buried,  and  on  the  third 
day  rise  again."  They  could  not  understand  it. 
When  he  shouted  to  the  dead  Lazarus  to  "  arise  and 
come  forth,"  he  did  more  than  make  a  demonstration 
of  his  miraculous  power :  he  gave  a  shock  to  that 
entire  system  of  superstition  touching  death  which 
dominated  over  the  ancient  world.  The  revelation 
in  the  case  of  Lazarus  was  partial ;  but  a  full  and 
perfect  one  remained  to  be  made,  even  in  his  own 
person.  In  the  fulness  of  time,  he  died ;  he  descend- 
ed to  the  grave ;  he  crept  along  the  crumbling  edges 
of  mortality  ;  he  explored  all  the  recesses  of  what  had 
been  a  world-long  mystery;  he  illumined  the  grave 
with  a  light  that  might  never  fade,  banishing  forever 
its  darkness :  then  he  came  forth,  and  men  saw  him 
unharmed  !  What  must  have  been  the  feelings  of  the 
disciples  ?  I  have  never  marvelled  at  the  scepticism 
of  Thomas.  As  I  read  the  narrative,  he  always  ap- 
pears to  me  to  have  been  an  unimaginative,  cool- 
headed,  matter-of-fact  man.  He  had  seen  Jesus  nailed 
to  the  cross  ;  he  had  seen  his  bosom  transfixed  with  a 
spear,  —  a  rough,  huge-headed  Roman  spear  ;  he  had 
heard  his  death-cry,  and  watched  him  as  he  gave  up 
the  ghost.  He  knew  that  he  had  died  and  been  buried ; 
and  was  he  to  believe  those,  who,  with  panting  and 
9* 


202  DEATH  A  GAIN. 

excitement,  told  him  that  Jesus  was  actually  alive 
again  ?  It  was  impossible  ;  a  flat  contradiction  of  the 
law  of  Nature  and  all  human  experience.  Was  Death, 
that  dread  power  the  whole  world  feared;  whose 
shadowy  sceptre  ruled  over  all  kingdoms  ;  whose  light- 
est whisper  the  mightiest  obeyed ;  at  whose  touch 
love  shrivelled  in  the  arms  of  love,  and  was  dropped 
from  its  embrace  with  a  shriek,  —  was  this  awful  event 
no  more  than  a  mantle  which  a  man  assumes  and  lays 
off  at  pleasure  ?  Was  a  sepulchre  of  hewn  rock, 
with  its  stone-guarded  door,  only  a  bower,  in  which 
this  man  might  sleep  for  a  night  or  two,  and  then 
come  forth  refreshed  ?  Well  might  he  say,  —  and  I 
thank  God  that  he  did  say,  —  "  Except  I  shall  see  in 
his  hands  the  print  of  the  nails,  and  put  my  finger 
into  the  print  of  the  nails,  and  thrust  my  hands 
into  his  side,  I  will  not  believe"  But  at  last  he  had 
to  believe,  for  the  very  proof  that  he  so  cautiously 
and  determinedly  insisted  on  was  given  him ;  and  con- 
vinced beyond  the  possibility  of  a  doubt,  overpowered 
at  the  stupendous  manifestation  that  the  world  had 
received,  he  exclaimed,  "  My  Lord  and  my  God  !  " 

It  is  to  Christ,  then,  that  we  are  indebted  for  eman- 
cipation from  an  intolerable  fear.  It  was  necessary 
that  he  should  taste  of  death,  that  the  bitterness  of  its 
waters  might  be  sweetened  by  the  touch  of  his  lips. 
As  a  father  wades  out  into  a  stream  to  encourage  his 
timid  child  to  cross,  so  Christ  went  down  into  the  river 
men  had  dreaded,  but  whose  waters  are  full  of  cleans- 
ing, and  whose  farther  waves  beat  on  a  golden  shore. 
I  regret  to  say  that  Christians  are  slow  to  improve  the 


DEATH  A  GAIN.  203 

privilege  of  knowledge  and  faith.  The  old  heathen 
superstition  still  endures.  To  many  a  professor,  even, 
Death  is  a  monster,  and  not  the  dark-faced  but  kind- 
hearted  usher  that  he  is,  sent  out  to  lead  us  to  our 
Father's  palace.  I  know  of  little  truly  Christian 
poetry.  Many  of  our  otherwise  sweetest  hymns  are 
harsh  with  the  old  heathenish  moan.  Literature  is 
more  mythological  in  its  presentation  of  death  than 
scriptural.  Art  is  perverted  by  the  same  error.  When 
shall  we  have  an  artist  that  will  paint  us  an  angel, 
and  not  a  spectre  ?  We  dress  our  grief  as  the  ancients  i 
who  lived  before  life  and  immortality  were  brought  to  ) 
light  dressed  theirs.  The  color  of  our  mourning  gives  ' 
the  lie  to  our  faith.  A  saint  is  lifted  to  her  glory  and 
her  reward  in  heaven,  and  we  put  on  black !  The  Shep- 
herd in  his  deep  love  stoops,  and  takes  a  little  feeble 
lamb  to  his  bosom ;  and  we  knot  crape  to  our  door,  and 
fill  the  house  with  lamentation  !  How  might  the  birds 
teach  us,  that  sing  their  little  ones  into  the  air  when 
grown  beyond  the  accommodations  of  the  nest !  They 
have  instinctive  faith  in  God.  They  know  that  his 
heavens  are  broad  and  high,  and  that  their  darlings  will 
not  lack  room,  nor  one  of  them  fall  to  the  ground  with- 
out his  notice  :  but  we  shudder  when  ours  fly  off,  and 
sit  and  mourn  over  the  deserted  cradle ;  forgetting 
the  sublime  statement  of  Paul,  that  "  to  die  is  gain." 

"  How  a  gain  ?  "  you  say.  "  Make  it  appear  to  me 
that  I  shall  gain  in  dying.  Cause  it  to  stand  out  be- 
fore my  eyes." 

In  the  first  place,  then,  I  remark,  that  to  die  is  a 
gain,  considered  physically. 


204  DEATH  A  GAIN. 

I  would  detract  nothing,  friends,  from  the  glory  of 
the  body.  As  the  servant  of  the  mind,  as  the  com- 
panion and  temple  of  the  soul,  in  its  powers  of 
adaptation,  in  the  variety  of  its  senses,  as  a  medium 
through  which  unnumbered  pleasures  come  to  us,  it 
is  truly  admirable.  When  in  health,  it  is  a  marvel  of 
accommodation.  Through  it  we  are  able  to  appro- 
priate whatever  is  delightful  to  the  eye,  harmonious 
to  the  ear,  and  agreeable  to  the  taste.  It  ministers 
to  wants  beyond  its  own,  lends  a  charm  to  compan- 
ionship, and  connects  us  in  closest  bonds  of  sympathy 
with  the  world  of  Nature. 

Regarded  in  one  light,  the  Christian  can  but  regret 
that  he  must  depart  from  the  mortal  tenement  in 
which  for  years  he  has  lived  and  labored.  Even  the 
aged,  thinking  upon  it  as  a  life-long  companion,  and 
which,  though  often  abused,  was  ever  the  object  of 
unceasing  care  and  solicitude,  contemplate  often  with 
unfeigned  sadness  the  gradual  decline  of  its  powers 
and  the  prospect  of  extinction.  Then  too,  as  a  speci- 
men of  divine  ingenuity,  it  is  so  marvellous,  as  a 
medium  of  communication  with  the  material  world 
it  is  so  facile,  as  a  help  to  interpret  the  feelings  be- 
tween soul  and  soul  it  is  so  quick  and  sensitive,  so 
full  of  mobility,  and  perfectly  adapted  to  human  neces- 
sities, that  it  is  natural  and  proper  to  mourn  the  extinc- 
tion of  its  powers  and  the  lapse  of  its  energies.  It  is 
fit  that  we  mourn  when  beauty  fades.  I  have  lain  in 
the  night-watches  on  the  silent  shore  when  the  waves 
slept  and  the  golden  sands  were  unstirred,  and  seen  a 
star  sway  for  a  moment  uneasily  in  its  orbit,  then  fall  ; 


DEATH   A  GAIN.  205 

and  mourned  that  the  heavens  had  lost  so  bright  a 
beam.  I  have  seen  a  rose  that  had  blossomed  on  my 
table,  that  had  made  the  air  of  my  study  sweet,  and 
cheered  my  toil,  become  loosened  in  its  formation, 
until  its  leaves  fluttered  downward  in  death ;  and 
my  thoughts  fell  with  them ;  and  the  quick  fancies 
that  had  flowered  while  they  flowered  lay  amid  the 
dead  leaves,  dead  as  they.  I  have  stood  above  the 
dying  deer,  monarch  of  the  woods,  child  of  the  wind 
and  the  sunshine,  swift  as  the  one,  bright  as  the 
other :  I  have  seen  the  film  gather  over  the  eye  pure 
as  the  sky  on  which  it  loved  to  gaze,  and  knelt  rever- 
ently to  press  the  fringed  lid  to  its  lasting  rest,  and 
pondered,  in  the  deep  silence  of  undisturbed  Nature, 
whither  its  wild  life  had  fled,  —  nevermore  would  it 
crop  the  flowers  upon  the  meadow-land;  nevermore 
would  its  trumpet  sound  from  the  pine-crested  ridge  ; 
nevermore  would  the  waters  of  its  native  lake  cool 
its  heated  sides,  heated  in  nimble  play,  —  and,  ponder- 
ing, relieved  my  sadness  with  the  thought,  that  I  had 
never  consciously  taken  life  of  its  kind  in  vain.  And 
when  I  think  of  that  vast  multitude  of  men  and 
women  that  die  daily,  of  all  the  forms  that  languish 
on  beds  of  suffering,  of  all  the  power  and  beauty 
passing  from  the  world  with  the  passing  of  every 
hour,  my  heart  is  heavy,  and  I  say,  "  Oh  that  man 
might  not  die  !  oh  that  woman  might  not  perish !  oh 
that  all  the  power  and  loveliness  they  embody  might 
abide  and  fail  not,  but  increase  and  multiply  both  by 
addition  and  expansion  until  the  earth  is  filled  with 
the  glory  of  the  Lord,  even  his  perfected  likeness  !  " 


206  DEATH  A  GAIN. 

But,  when  reason  triumphs  over  sentiment,  the 
scales  are  reversed,  and  I  see  how  uncalled  for  is  re- 
gret. The  body  is  no  longer  worthy,  no  longer 
beautiful :  I  no  longer  desire  it.  As  a  student,  I  see 
how  it  hinders  my  growth,  both  by  the  interruption 
of  its  necessities  and  its  diversions.  I  see  that  it 
cramps  and  clogs  the  intellect  through  all  the  grades 
of  perceivable  influence,  —  from  the  slightest,  clean 
down  to  idiocy.  It  limits  man's  acquisition  of  knowl- 
edge, compelling  it  to  be  both  local  and  partial ;  and 
allows  him  no  security  against  the  total  loss  of  all 
that  by  years  of  patient  toil  he  has  obtained.  In  one 
night  of  fever,  or  by  the  shock  of  some  slight  acci- 
dent, Reason  is  hurled  from  her  throne,  the  casket  of 
memory  overturned,  and  the  jewels  emptied  into  the 
depths  of  the  sea.  It  is,  moreover,  the  parent  and 
birthplace  of  disease.  In  it  are  born  those  causes 
and  results  that  make  life  miserable,  which  burden 
friendship,  and  task  the  service  of  love,  filling  the  day 
with  regrets  and  the  night  with  pain,  until  life  itself 
becomes  oppressive,  and  existence  an  experience 
incompatible  with  happiness.  But  these  reflections 
do  not  fully  express  the  sinister  influence  of  the  body 
on  us.  There  is  another  and  a  heavier  charge  in  the 
impeachment ;  for  it  is  the  avenue  of  temptation  to 
the  soul.  In  it  inordinate  desires  lurk ;  passions 
dwell  in  it ;  appetites,  whose  indulgence  is  ruin,  find 
in  it  a  natural  and  impregnable  fortress ;  lust  and 
unholy  cravings  nest  in  it,  and  bring  forth  their  hor- 
rible offspring  daily.  A  vast  family  of  wants  inhabit 
it,  to  feed  which  we  must  often  tax  ourselves  heavily. 


DEATH  A  GAIN.  207 

We  resist,  and  suffer  for  it  ;  we  yield,  and  are  de- 
stroyed. In  brief,  the  soul  of  man  seems  to  me  like 
a  king  compelled  to  live  continually  in  the  camp  of 
his  enemies.  On  all  sides  is  danger :  if  he  resists, 
they  assault  him,  they  cover  him  with  wounds,  they 
beat  him  down,  strip  him  of  his  royal  vestments,  and 
disgrace  him ;  if  he  yields,  he  loses  the  identity  of 
his  integrity,  which  alone  is  asserted  in  antagonism. 
Who,  as  he  has  reflected  upon  these  matters,  has  never 
longed  for  another  and  a  nobler  companion  ?  Who 
may  not  with  reason  and  reverence  exclaim,  "  Oh 
for  a  body  no  more  subject  to  disease,  no  more  tor- 
mented with  pain,  no  more  dominated  by  death!  —  a 
body  not  cramped  and  local,  but  liberal  and  universal 
in  the  action  of  its  functions  ;  moving  with  the  ease 
of  light  along  the  lines  of  varied  acquisition,  tel- 
escopic in  its  powers,  harmonious  in  all  its  elements, 
whose  very  appetites  are  refined,  whose  passions  are 
legitimate,  and  whose  desires  are  holy,  —  a  body 
which  shall  not  hinder,  but  assist,  the  intellect ;  which 
will  not  dwarf,  but  enlarge,  the  soul,  by  supplying  it 
with  more  and  better  methods  of  manifestations,  —  a 
body  untainted  by  disease,  unsusceptible  of  pain,  in- 
capable of  exhaustion,  and  superior  to  death  "? 
?  To  this  aspiration,  friends,  I  reply,  To  such  a  body 
shall  the  dying  Christian  come.  Death,  with  kindly 
hand,  will  lead  him  into  the  vestibule  of  this  magnifi- 
cent mode  of  life.  He  shall  stand  beneath  its  up- 
heaved arch,  whose  only  ornament  is  the  majesty 
of  its  magnitude,  —  none  other  being  needed ;  and  as 
his  eye  traverses  its  suspended  dome,  grown  by  the 


208  DEATH   A   GAIN. 

atmosphere  of  the  place  into  God-likeness,  he  shall 
say,  "  This,  then,  is  the  temple  not  built  with 
hands.  I  fill  it!"  In  the  world  beyond  the  grave, 
the  populations  are  so  vast  that  they  are  never  com- 
puted :  their  census  exists  only  in  God's  mind.  And 
the  language  they  use  is,  in  its  symbols,  numberless 
as  the  objects  of  their  universal  inquisition.  But  in 
all  the  vast  vocabulary  of  their  speech,  in  all  the  in- 
finite pantomime  of  their  expression,  there  is  no  sym- 
bol nor  sign  for  pain.  That  sensation,  to  the  believer 
in  Christ,  ends  at  death.  Indeed,  all  the  children  of 
Sin  die  with  their  mother.  The  spiritual  body,  be- 
gotten and  bestowed  of  God,  will  be  full  of  the 
powers  and  characteristics  of  God.  When  that  physi- 
cal life,  which,  to  some  of  God's  elect  on  earth,  is  but 
one  prolonged  spasm  of  pain,  is  happily  over,  and  the 
transparent  hands  fold  themselves,  and  the  lids  droop, 
suffering  and  inconvenience  will  be  ended.  We  shall 
all  be  content  when  we  awake  in  His  likeness. 

Come,  then,  thou  beautiful  night,  that  revealest  to 
man  the  star  of  so  bright  a  hope !  we  tire  of  the  heat 
and  of  the  day.  If  thou  obscurest  the  things  of 
earth,  —  things  which  had  delighted  us,  and  that  we 
loved,  —  thou  nevertheless  makest  the  grand  dome 
of  future  life,  with  all  its  solemn  spaces  and  starry 
passages,  to  appear  unto  our  eyes.  Let,  then,  thy 
dark  shadows  fall  upon  those  chambers  where  lie  the 
suffering  and  the  sick,  and  those  whose  cheeks  are 
continually  wet  with  tears,  that,  with  thy  darkness, 
sleep  may  come  to  them,  weary  of  pain,  —  even  that 
sleep  which  God  giveth  to  his  beloved.     Come  to  the 


DEATH  A  GAIN.  209 

bed  of  tossing,  and  conches  of  distress ;  come  to  those 
that  fear  thee ;  remove  thy  mask,  and  let  them  see 
how  calm  and  gentle  is  thy  face ;  come  to  those  that 
long  have  prayed  for  thee  as  men  in  dungeons  pray 
wildly  and  madly  for  freedom,  and  deliver  them  out 
of  bondage ;  come  as  a  sweet  surprise  to  those  that 
shrink  from  thee  as  children  from  the  physician  who 
lias  come  to  heal  them ;  come  to  the  elect  of  God  in 
his  good  time  and  pleasure,  —  and  we  will  hail  thee 
as  the  last  and  kindest  ministration  of  his  love,  and 
take  thy  hand  as  a  loyal  subject  might  take  the  hand 
of  a  herald  who  had  come  forth  to  lead  him  to  his 
kinsf. 

But,  if  it  is  gain  for  the  Christian  to  die  when 
physically  considered,  much  more  does  it  appear  to 
be  true  in  relation  to  the  mind.  This  is  the  glory  of 
man.  There  is  no  power  like  that  of  the  intellect. 
Thought,  unless  it  be  sadly  perverted,  is  a  divine 
exercise  of  a  divine  force.  He  who  thinks  purely 
feels  like  God.  There  is  no  pleasure  like  that  of 
intelligence.  All  men  in  the  creative  conception, 
and  also  in  point  of  fact,  are  students.  As  soon  as  he 
is  born,  the  child  becomes  a  linguist.  He  studies 
and  acquires  intuitively.  The  mind  searches  for 
knowledge  as  the  mouth  of  the  babe  for  the  mother's 
breast,  and  is  not  content  until  it  is  filled.  Its  wants 
grow  with  its  growth,  and  the  supply  of  its  necessi- 
ties is  to  it  the  source  of  its  happiness.  The  body 
is  "  of  the  earth,  earthy :  "  of  dust  is  it  made,  and  unto 
dust  will  it  return.  The  loveliest  flower  loses  in  time 
its  formation  and  its  tinting,  and  is  resolved  back  into 


210  DEATH  A  GAIN. 

its  original  elements.  Its  beauty,  like  its  life,  is  an 
accident.  But  the  mind  is  not  of  earth,  but  of  spirit, 
and  can  never  lose  its  coherence.  Existing  as  an 
essence,  it  is  lifted  above  the  laws  of  matter,  and  is 
superior  to  its  fate.  I  forget  the  body  as  I  speak. 
The  invisible  in  me  addresses  the  invisible  in  you. 
Not  the  eye,  but  that  which  brightens  the  eye,  not 
the  voice,  but  that  which  sounds  through  the  voice, 
not  the  body,  but  that  which  animates  it,  distinguish- 
ing it  from  its  kindred  clay,  is  what  I  allude  to  when 
I  speak  of  mind.  The  history  of  the  race  is  but  a 
narrative  of  man's  search  for  knowledge.  He  has 
probed  the  earth ;  he  has  pursued  the  stars ;  he  has 
tortured  the  air  for  food  to  appease  the  hunger  of  his 
mind.  He  could  not  and  he  would  not  eat  unless 
he  fed  from  the  viands  of  the  gods.  This  hunger 
is  to  eternally  endure.  We  share  the  craving 
with  the  angels.  Like  birds  of  different  degrees 
of  growth,  but  of  the  same  species,  we  search  the  air 
for  the  same  food,  and  are  continually  crossing  each 
other's  lines  of  flight.  I  fly  to-day  where  they  flew 
yesterday,  and  the  pinions  of  my  mind  will  beat  to- 
morrow the  air  which  their  vans  fan  to-day.  The 
things  that  they  desire  to  look  into  my  eyes  ache 
to  see,  and  the  song  in  praise  of  apprehended  excel- 
lence they  sing  will  roll  in  crested  waves  of  melody 
from  my  lips  when  my  eyes  behold  it. 

But  what  a  hinderance  and  impediment  this  life,  in 
its  necessities  and  conditions,  is !  How  it  weighs  me 
down  as  a  stone  fastened  to  a  bird's  wing  would 
oppress  its  flight !     I  cannot  rise ;  I  cannot  soar  into 


DEATH  A  GAIN.  211 

the  clear  spaces  of  the  pure  realm  above  me.  I  am 
held  back  and  restrained  amid  damp  and  vapor.  I 
cannot  attain.  I  can  only  prove  my  aspiration,  only 
demonstrate  the  divine  instinct  in  me,  by  flutterings. 
What  a  god  in  knowledge,  what  an  angel  in  appre- 
hension, what  a  giant  in  power,  man  might  become, 
but  for  the  body !  Where  is  the  world  he  might  not 
reach?  What  star  is  there  in  all  the  heavens  he 
might  not  visit?  Along  the  shining  trail  of  what 
blazing  comet  might  he  not  fly  ?  What  companion- 
ships would  not  such  a  flight  bring  him!  How 
would  his  soul  grow  into  the  angelic  mood,  and  ado- 
ration become  the  normal  expression  of  his  nature,  as 
he  saw  and  gazed  and  acquired  !  For,  wherever  he 
flew,  on  the  marge  of  whatever  world  he  landed, 
there  would  he  behold  God,  whom  to  see  is  to  adore. 
Everywhere,  I  repeat,  in  his  finest  expression,  would 
he  see  Jehovah,  even  as  voyagers  in  tropical  seas  find 
Nature  in  her  finest  expression  in  the  bloom  and  fra- 
grance of  flowers,  land  they  on  whatever  isle  they 
may. 

To  all  these  possibilities  —  and,  besides  these,  what 
are  the  possibilities  of  the  earth  ?  —  death  will  intro- 
duce the  Christian.  As  the  opening  of  the  door  means 
freedom  to  the  caged  bird,  so  dying  means  freedom 
to  the  mind.  No  more  will  the  body  wire  it  about ; 
no  more  will  it  pine  and  droop,  fed  by  a  hand  that 
knows  not  its  natural  food  ;  no  more  will  the  plumage 
of  its  breast,  rent  in  its  fruitless  struggles  for  liberty, 
crimson  the  floor  ;  but  it  shall  fly  forth  with  a  great 
burst  of  song,  condensing  in  one  note  all  it  feels  of 


212  DEATH  A  GAIN. 

hate  for  bondage,  and  of  love  for  its  henceforth  as- 
sured freedom.  It  shall  fly  forth,  I  say,  the  bound- 
less dome  of  heaven  alone  marking  the  limit  of  its 
flight ;  it  shall  feed  on  food  eaten  of  all  its  kind, 
and  the  plumage  of  its  breast,  as  it  goes  forever  soar- 
ing upward,  reflect  the  glory  of  its  Maker  and  its  God. 

"To  die  is  gain."  It  is  a  universal  statement  uni- 
versally disbelieved.  I  have  searched  the  graves  of 
twenty  grave-yards,  and  not  a  marble  slab  or  shaft, 
plainly  wrought  or  chiselled  in  costly  design,  bore  this 
immortal  assertion.  I  have  prayed  above  a  hundred 
coffins,  and  watched  the  faces  of  the  mourners  anx- 
iously: not  one  betrayed  a  knowledge  of  this  sen- 
tence. 1  have  carried  a  bright  face  to  the  funeral- 
chamber,  and  spoken  the  words  of  cheerful  faith; 
and  men  have  marvelled,  revealing  their  scepticism 
by  their  surprise.  I  have  found  it  hard  to  persuade 
men  that  death  is  sunrise :  but  when  I  compare  the 
conditions  of  this  life  with  those  of  the  next ;  when 
I  set  the  body  sensual  over  against  the  body  spiritual, 
the  mind  in  bondage  over  against  the  mind  emanci- 
pated; when  I  have  bowed  myself  over  the  white 
face,  beautiful  as  it  lay  in  deep,  unruffled  peace,  and 
remembered  how  passionate  and  painful  was  the  life ; 
when  I  have  stood  beside  the  dying,  heard  their  mur- 
mured words  of  wonder,  their  exclamations  of  rap- 
ture, and  seen  a  light  not  of  this  world  fall  upon  their 
faces  as  they  touched  the  margin  of  the  great  change, 
—  I  have  said  to  myself,  as  I  turned  away,  "  Yes, 
Death,  thou  art  a  gain,  and  Paul  did  not  lie." 

My  friends,  I  shall  speak  again  upon  this  theme. 


DEATH  A  GAIN.  213 

Its  waves  of  solemn  thought  roll  in  upon  me  as  the 
great  billows  come  rolling  landward  from  the  outer 
sea.  Roll  on  and  over  me,  ye  waves  of  holy  thought, 
white-crested  with  hope  ;  beat  in  upon  my  soul  as  the 
grand  wave  beats  down  upon  the  sounding  shore  ;  and, 
in  thy  solemn  thunders,  tell  us  of  God.  O  Fear !  I  hate 
thee :  thou  art  the  child  of  Ignorance,  and  the  curse 
of  thy  mother's  likeness  is  on  thy  forehead.  Never 
shalt  thou  sit  as  a  guest  at  my  table,  or  darken  the  en- 
trance of  my  chamber-door  when  I  or  mine  lie  dying. 
There  is  a  bird  that  mariners  call  the  "  frigate- 
bird,"  of  strange  habits,  and  of  stranger  power. 
Men  see  him  in  all  climes ;  but  never  yet  has  human 
eye  seen  him  near  the  earth.  With  wings  of  mighty 
stretch,  high  borne,  he  sails  along.  Men  of  the  far 
north  see  him  at  midnight  moving  on  amid  auroral 
fires,  sailing  along  with  set  wings  amid  those  awful 
names,  taking  the  color  of  the  waves  of  light  which 
swell  and  heave  around  him.  Men  in  the  tropics  see 
him  at  hottest  noon,  his  plumage  all  incarnadined  by 
the  fierce  rays  that  smite  innocuous  upon  him.  Amid 
their  ardent  fervor  he  bears  along,  majestic,  tireless. 
Never  was  he  known  to  stoop  from  his  lofty  line  of 
flight,  never  to  swerve.  To  many  he  is  a  myth ;  to 
all  a  mystery.  Where  is  his  perch  ?  Where  does  he 
rest  ?  Where  was  he  brooded  ?  None  know.  They 
only  know  that  above  cloud,  above  the  reach  of  tem- 
pest, above  the  tumult  of  transverse  currents,  this 
bird  of  heaven,  so  let  us  call  him,  on  self-supporting 
vans  that  disdain  to  beat  the  air  on  which  they  rest, 
moves  grandly  on.     So  shall  my  hope  be.     At  either 


214  DEATH  A  GAIN. 

pole  of  life,  above  the  clouds  of  sorrow,  superior  to 
the  tempests  that  beat  upon  me,  on  lofty  and  tireless 
wing,  scorning  the  earth,  it  shall  move  along.  Never 
shall  it  stoop,  never  swerve  from  its  sublime  line  of 
flight.  Men  shall  see  it  in  the  morning  of  my  life  ; 
they  shall  see  it  in  its  hot  noonday ;  and  when  the 
shadows  fall,  my  sun  having  set,  using  your  style 
of  speech,  but,  using  mine,  when  the  shadows  disap- 
pear, my  sun  having  risen,  the  last  they  see  of  me 
shall  be  this  hope  of  gain  in  dying,  as  it  sails  out  on 
steady  wing,  and  disappears  amid  the  everlasting  light. 
I  feel,  friends,  that  no  exhortation  of  mine  will 
lift  you  to  this  pedestal  of  hewn  granite  on  which  it 
is  given  to  monumental  piety  to  stand.  Only  by  analy- 
sis, by  meditation,  by  thought  that  ponders  in  the 
night-time  the  majestic  utterances  of  Scripture,  and 
by  the  open  lattice,  or,  better  yet,  beneath  the  grand 
dome  bows  in  prayer,  and  holds  communion  with  the 
possibilities  that  stand  beyond  this  life,  like  unfilled 
thrones  waiting  for  occupants,  —  only  in  this  way,  and 
in  others  suggested  by  the  Spirit  to  minds  fit  to  re- 
ceive them,  will  you  or  any  ever  rise  to  the  level  of 
the  emotion  which  dictated  the  text.  Where  is  Paul 
to-day  ?  Where  does  he  stand,  who,  from  his  prison 
at  Rome,  sent  out  this  immortal  saying  ?  Is  there 
one  of  us  that  doubts  that  he  has  verified  the  state- 
ment, that  "  to  die  is  gain  "  ?  Not  one.  We  know 
he  walks  in  glory.  He  moves  amid  the  majestic 
spaces  where  even  Deity  is  not  cramped.  After  all 
his  struggles,  he  has  entered  into  rest.  Yet  what  has 
he  received  that  is  not  in  reserve  for  us  ?     What  has 


DEATH  A  GAIN.  215 

he  that  has  not  come  to  him  in  the  way  of  gift  ?  And 
is  not  his  God  mine  and  yours?  Will  the  eternal 
Father  feed  with  a  partial  hand  ?  Will  he  discrimi- 
nate, and  become  a  respecter  of  persons,  even  at  his 
own  table?  Piety  can  never  receive  into  its  mind 
the  awful  suspicion.  Our  Father  feeds  his  children 
alike ;  and  the  garments  that  they  wear  are  cut  from 
a  royal  fabric,  —  even  his  righteousness.  They  shine 
like  suns  brought  by  the  action  of  a  sublime  move- 
ment into  conjunction.  Rise,  then,  my  friends,  ye 
people  of  his  love,  —  rise,  and  climb  with  me  the  mighty 
stairway  whose  steps  are  changed  from  granite  to 
porphyry,  and  from  porphyry  to  jasper,  as  we  ascend, 
until  our  feet,  pure  as  itself,  stand  on  the  sea  of  crystal 
which  stretches  in  seamless  purity  before  the  throne. 
And  you,  ye  aged,  whose  faces  are  already  touched 
with  the  light  of  the  eternal  world,  prepare  yourselves 
to  enter  with  gladness  through  that  gate  of  former 
blackness,  but  which  Christ  revealed  to  be  of  pearl, 
into  that  city  of  infinite  spaces  and  majestic  propor- 
tions, whose  maker  and  builder  is  God.  Say,  as  you 
draw  nigh  to  it,  as  you  catch  ^the  far-off  gleam  of 
jasper,  as  you  hear  the  outer  ripples  of  its  music,  as 
you  see  breaking  on  your  dying  eyes  the  spectacle 
of  the  white-robed  waiting  by  the  gate  to  welcome 
you,  —  say,  "  I  have  journeyed  far ;  I  have  journeyed 
long  :  but  here,  in  this  chamber,  on  this  bed,  to-night, 
my  exile  and  my  wanderings  cease.  No  more  a  pil- 
grim, no  more  a  stranger,  at  last  I  see,  at  last  I  enter 
into,  my  everlasting  home." 


SABBATH  MORNING,  MAT  21,  1871. 


SERMON. 


SUBJECT.-WICKEDNESS  OF  THE  HEART. 

"The  heart  is  deceitful  above  am.  things,  and  desperately 
wicked:   who  can  know  it?"—  Jer.  xvii.  9. 

THE  heart  is  spoken  of  in  our  text  as  being  the 
seat  of  the  moral  affections ;  the  source  of 
moral  or  immoral  character  and  tendency.  The  term 
is  used  in  its  generic  sense,  and  is  nearly  if  not  quite 
synonymous  with  nature.  This,  indeed,  is  the  more 
frequent  significance  given  to  it  in  the  Scriptures. 
All  through  the  Bible,  you  find  it  employed  to  denote 
the  whole  nature  of  man.  As  a  noun  of  multitude 
covers  all  the  individuals  which  come  within  the  reach 
of  its  application,  so  this  term  "  heart "  includes  each 
single  element  or  principle  in  human  nature  which 
has  a  moral  bias  or  character. 

When,  therefore,  it  is  asserted  in  Scripture  that  the 
heart  is  deceitful  and  wicked,  it  is  the  same  as  if  it 
were  affirmed  that  the  nature  of  man,  human  nature 
taken  as  a  whole,  in  all  its  moral  relations  and  apti- 
tudes, partakes  of  these  evil  qualities.  The  charge  is 
not  brought  against  any  individual  exponent  of  that 
nature,  but  against  the  nature  itself.      It  does  not 

216 


WICKEDNESS  OF  THE  HEART.  217 

assert  that  human  nature  in  the  life  of  the  thief  or 
highwayman  or  murderer  is  deceitful  and  wicked ; 
but  it  charges  that  human  nature,  wherever  found 
and  however  expressed,  in  its  hereditary  and  root 
elements  and  principles,  is  wicked,  and  intensely 
wicked  at  that. 

Now,  I  do  not  propose  to-day  to  attempt  by  direct 
proof  to  establish  this  assertion.  If  any  of  you  in 
this  audience  do  not  believe  it,  my  immediate  sugges- 
tion to  you  is,  that  you  look  within  your  own  heart, 
and  see  what  sort  of  condition,  morally  considered,  it 
is  in.  You  need  not  read  books,  or  go  abroad  in 
search  of  facts,  to  ascertain  your  wickedness.  As  the 
eye  takes  in  colors,  so  the  conscience  recognizes  the 
presence  of  guilt.  You  see  it  in  yourself,  and  by  ob- 
servation you  discover  it  in  others.  A  chemist  takes 
a  drop  of  water  from  the  ocean,  and,  by  his  analysis  of 
it,  ascertains  the  composition  of  the  whole  mass.  So 
man,  as  one  drop  in  the  vast  ocean  of  moral  conscious- 
ness, by  examination  of  his  own  heart  learns  what  is 
the  moral  condition  of  all.  There  is  too  much  of 
studying  sin  from  the  outside.  There  is  too  much 
preaching  which  takes  up  moral  obliquity  as  an  in- 
tellectual proposition,  which  stands  or  falls  on  the 
strength  of  verbal  demonstration.  Is  the  evidence 
of  sin  found  alone  in  the  Scriptures  ?  Why  fabricate 
an  argument  out  of  proof-texts  ?  The  proof  of  man's 
guilt  is  man's  acts,  and  not  what  any  book  says  about 
him.  The  book  to  read  is  the  book  of  your  life,  with 
the  days  you  have  lived  for  the  leaves,  and  where 
every  leaf  is  marred  by  more  than  one  blot.  If  a 
10 


218  WICKEDNESS   OF  THE   HEART. 

man  says  that  he  is  not  sinful,  must  I  run  to  Scripture 
to  prove  it  ?  No.  When  a  man  with  the  smell  of 
whiskey  strong  in  his  breath  tells  me  that  he  does  not 
drink,  must  I  run  to  the  State  House  and  turn  to  the 
statute  of  prohibition  to  prove  it  ?  Why,  no.  He  is 
himself  the  all-sufficient  witness  against  himself.  Out 
of  him,  with  the  very  utterance  of  the  assertion,  camo 
the  proof  of  its  falsity.  So  it  is  with  this  matter  of 
personal  moral  obliquity,  this  lack  of  individual  holi- 
ness, this  lapsed  and  fallen  condition  of  human  nature. 
Books  do  not  prove  it ;  verbal  demonstrations  do  not 
prove  it :  it  proves  itself.  As  a  turbid  stretch  of 
water  denotes  impurity  above,  so  man's  words  and 
thoughts  and  acts  show  that  the  source,  his  heart, 
is  not  morally  right. 

Now,  in  this  discourse  I  do  not,  as  I  said,  wish  to 
enter  into  any  argument  to  establish  the  text.  It  is 
a  hard,  rough,  and  thorn-like  passage.  It  rises  out  of 
the  preceding  context,  very  like  as  some  islands  rise 
out  of  the  placid  surface  of  our  Northern  lakes,  vex- 
ing the  easy-going  waters  with  their  projections  of 
ragged  granite,  and  offering  to  the  eye  of  the  hunter 
who  would  beat  them  for  game  the  harsh  opposition 
of  thickets.  No,  we  will  not  push  in  and  tear  our 
way  through  this  thorny  text :  we  will  only  paddle 
around  it,  as  it  were,  study  its  rough  suggestiveness, 
in  search  of  some  safe  and  profitable  application. 

The  charge  of  deceitfulness  is  brought  in  our  text 
against  the  human  heart.  It  is  a  grave  charge.  To 
deceive  any  one  is  to  lead  him  astray ;  to  cause  him 
to  doubt  what  is  true,  and  believe  what  is  false  ;  to 


WICKEDNESS  OF  THE  HEART.  219 

delude  and  entrap  him  to  his  lasting  hurt.  Now,  this 
is  a  very  sweeping  allegation.  I  will  show  you  how 
grave  it  is  by  an  illustration. 

To  an  artist,  that  is  a  fearful  disturbance  in  vision 
which  transposes  colors,  causing  white  to  appear  black, 
and  black  white.  What  correct  and  remunerative 
picture  may  he  ever  paint  again  ?  How  shall  he  ever 
again  mingle  his  colors,  and  from  his  nicely-prepared 
mixtures  make  the  canvas  to  glow  with  the  roseate 
hues  of  morning  or  the  star-lighted  splendors  of  the 
night  ?  Out  of  what  future  possibility  shall  he  fash- 
ion his  wreath  ?  By  what  application  can  he  win  even 
his  physical  support  ?  He  cannot.  That  optical  de- 
lusion, that  deceitfulness  of  vision,  has  dashed,  in  one 
single  hour,  hope,  wealth,  and  honor  to  the  ground. 
But  what  is  the  eye,  either  in  its  uses  or  dignity,  beside 
the  soul  ?  What  is  that  disturbance  which  affects 
the  fleshly  and  the  temporal  compared  with  that 
which  deludes  the  spiritual  and  the  eternal?  Let 
blindness  fall  upon  us,  and  the  gates  of  sight  be 
closed  forever  to  the  scenes  of  earth  and  time  :  only 
leave  with  us  unhampered  faith  in  God,  undiminished 
affection  for  him,  undying  hope  in  the  hereafter,  and 
we  will  live  and  rejoice  in  that  hope  until  the  healing 
finger  shall  touch  our  sightless  orbs,  and  on  our  open- 
ing eyes  shall  break  the  glories  of  the  heavenly 
world. 

But  if  the  heart  be  diseased ;  if  that  invaluable 
element  which  enables  us  to  decide  as  to  what  is 
right  and  wrong  be  affected ;  if  our  affections  con- 
spire to  lead  us  astray  ;  above  all,  if  this  deceitfulness 


220  WICKEDNESS   OF  THE   HEART. 

and  evil  bias  affect  not  only  this  but  our  future  life, 
— then  language  is  too  weak  to  describe  the  calamity 
it  inflicts  on  all ;  then  are  we  like  men  exposed  to 
an  unmeasured  and  immeasurable  evil. 

Now,  one  of  the  proofs  of  the  existence  of  this 
principle  in  the  heart  is,  that  it  leads  one  to  put  a 
false  estimate  upon  himself. 

It  was  in  this  form  that  sin  found  its  first  expres- 
sion in  Satan.  An  unseemly  pride  possessed  him.  He 
was  ambitious  to  be  equal  with  God.  An  inordinate 
desire  to  match  the  Infinite  stirred  him  into  that  wild 
and  unprecedented  rebellion.  Sin  is  always  bold 
with  a  boldness  born  of  an  exaggerated  idea  of  its 
own  prowess.  Hence  its  audacity.  Hence  its  swag- 
ger. Hence  sinfulness  and  pride  in  the  Scripture  are 
analogous  terms  ;  as  in  Prov.  xvi.  5,  "  The  proud  in 
heart  are  an  abomination  to  the  Lord."  What  sin 
most  hates  is  true  humility,  —  the  reverent  confession 
of  weakness  before  God.  Its  whole  aim  is  to  push 
men  to  the  other  extreme  ;  to  blind  their  eyes  to  their 
own  emptiness,  and  make  them  feel  that  they  need 
nothing.  Now,  you  may  go  up  and  down  and  around 
the  whole  earth,  and  you  cannot  find  a  wicked  man 
who  is  a  humble  man.  Sin  has  a  certain  complacency 
peculiar  to  itself.  It  contemplates  with  a  sense  of 
unctuous  satisfaction  its  well-filled  granaries,  its  stocks 
and  bonds,  and,  smoothing  the  velvet  of  its  raiment, 
exclaims,  "  Soul,  take  thy  ease  !  "  Yea,  more  :  you 
may  canvass  all  the  cities  of  the  world,  and  all  grades 
of  vice,  and  you  will  find  that  sin  has  a  style  of  con- 
tentment in  it.     Men  and  women  are  by  it  drugged 


WICKEDNESS   OF  THE  HEAET.  221 

into  a  kind  of  insensibility  touching  the  future.  They 
have  no  projection  to  their  thoughts.  The  grave  is 
to  them  a  movable  point,  ever  receding  as  they  ad- 
vance ;  and  at  fifty  they  are  no  nearer  to  it  than  at 
thirty.  Death  is  made,  by  the  deceitfulness  of  sin,  to 
appear  as  a  far-off  and  remote  event ;  and  never  until 
the  shadows  of  the  valley  which  at  last  envelop  all 
are  actually  settling  around  them  do  they  realize  that 
they,  too,  must  die. 

My  hearer,  is  this  to  any  extent  true  of  you  ?  Does 
the  grave  appear  to  you  as  too  far  off  to  require  im- 
mediate attention  ?  Are  you  counting  as  sure  that 
which  is  most  uncertain,  —  life  ?  Are  you  delaying 
what  should  first  of  b11  be  attended  to  ?  If  so,  I 
submit  that  you  are  not  wise.  This  word  of  caution  is 
for  you.  It  is  God's  warning  to  your  soul.  Give  it 
due  heed,  lest  you  do  worse. 

Now,  the  text  charges  that  the  heart  is  not  only 
deceitful,  but  desperately  wicked.  This  is  the  cul- 
mination of  the  charge.  Let  us  look  at  it  a  mo- 
ment. 

In  old  Saxon,  "  wicked  "  signified  "  bewitched,  pos- 
sessed with  the  very,  spirit  of  evil."  It  is  one  of  those 
words  which  carry  us  back  to  the  days  of  our  fore- 
fathers, when  superstitions  abounded,  and  the  belief 
prevailed  that  the  powers  of  evil,  and  Satan  himself, 
entered  into  men  and  women,  and  possessed  them. 
And  I  am  not  sure  that  they  were  far  out  of  the  way. 
I  have  been  at  times  rather  superstitious  myself  in 
view  of  exhibitions  I  have  seen  some  people  make  of 
themselves !     Now,  this  idea  that  a  wicked  man  is  a 


222  WICKEDNESS  OF  THE  HEART. 

bewitched  man,  a  man  of  whose  heart  Satan  has  taken 
possession,  whose  tongue  he  directs,  whose  bitterness 
he  prompts,  assists  the  mind  in  its  conception  of  the 
origin  and  nature  of  evil.  It  puts  one  on  the  right 
track,  and,  by  a  short,  sharp  race,  runs  the  game  to 
earth. 

In  modern  language,  "  wicked  "  means  "  contrary 
to  the  moral  law."  A  man  who  steals  or  swears  or 
covets  is  a  wicked  man.  A  man  who  is  addicted  to 
vice  of  any  sort ;  whose  heart  is  alienated  from  recti- 
tude and  God  ;  whose  idea  of  duty  is  born,  not  of  the 
quick  sense  of  right,  but  of  what  is  politic  and  ex- 
pedient, —  such  a  man  is  wicked :  and  if  he  is  far 
gone  in  these  directions,  if  his  moral  obliquity  has 
become  a  habit,  then  is  he  a  desperately  wicked  man ; 
that  is,  wicked  beyond  hope,  and  to  the  very  verge  of 
despair. 

This  charge  is  susceptible  of  proof.  The  history 
of  the  world  proves  it.  What  is  that  history  ?  You 
all  know.  You  are  intelligent ;  you  are  well-read ; 
and  jo\x  know  that  the  past  has  been  a  past  of  blood. 
From  the  time  of  Cain,  brother  has  smitten  brother,  and 
sin  and  death  dominated  over  mankind.  There  have 
been  centuries  whose  history  might  be  expressed  by 
a  groan.  The  life  of  many  generations  might  be 
represented  with  a  shackle  for  its  symbol.  The  shriek 
of  pain,  the  murmur  of  the  oppressed,  the  cry  of  baf- 
fled vengeance,  and  the  unanswered  prayer,  epitomize* 
volumes  of  labored  narrative.  The  race  has  marched 
to  its  enlarged  liberty  and  its  higher  life  as  men 
march  across  a  battle-field,  the  blaze  of  batteries  in 


WICKEDNESS   OF  THE   HEART.  223 

tlieir  face,  and  the  turf  beneath  their  feet  moist  with 
precious  blood. 

There  is  an  effort  being  made  in  this  country  to 
confuse  and  bewilder  the  public  mind  on  some  of  the 
rudimental,  underlying  questions  of  men's  spiritual 
condition.  The  languages  of  the  world  are  ransacked 
in  order  to  find  some  word,  some  phrase,  some  defi- 
nition, to  soften,  tone  down,  and  emasculate  the 
scriptural  idea  of  sin.  They  hate  the  term.  And 
well  such  teachers  may ;  for  if  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
sin  in  the  Bible  sense,  a  positive,  voluntary  transgres- 
sion against  right  principle  and  salutary  law,  then  all 
their  splendid  superstructure  of  philosophy  falls  to 
the  ground.  This  they  know  and  feel.  Hence  their 
efforts,  hence  their  anxiety,  to  explain  away  and 
weaken  men's  convictions  on  just  this  point.  They 
call  it  a  "  disease,"  a  "  misadjustment  of  the  facul- 
ties," an  "  unfortunate  but  irresponsible  tendency." 
Any  term,  any  phrase,  is  welcome,  so  that  it  banish 
from  their  vocabulary  of  utterance  the  terrible  word, 
which,  if  spoken,  has  a  concussive  power  in  it  sufficient 
to  demolish  all  their  elaborate  structure  of  deceit. 
But,  friends,  there  stands  the  word ;  there  is  the  ugly 
fact;  the  ghostly  visitation  which  mars  their  feast 
with  its  unbidden,  unwished-for  entrance.  What  an 
uphill  work  it  must  be  for  a  man  to  argue  before  an 
audience  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  sin,  when  every 
man  and  woman  before  the  speaker  knows  and  feels 
that  he  has  sinned,  not  once,  nor  twice,  but  many 
times !  How  can  I  tell  you  that  you  have  never  sinned, 
when  your  own  consciences  upbraid  you  ?    How  can  I 


224  WICKEDNESS  OF  THE  HEART. 

tell  you  that  you  are  spotless,  when  nought  but  the 
covering  of  your  secrecy  prevents  your  moral  discol- 
oration from  standing  out  palpably  to  sight  ?  Can  1 
forget  that  you  have  memories  ?  Can  I  go  down,  and, 
standing  over  against  your  jails,  declare  that  there  is 
no  transgression  of  law,  no  voluntary  and  premeditated 
crime  ?  Why,  that  philosophy  is  inconsistent  with 
your  civil  structure.  It  flies  in  the  face  of  every 
legal  enactment  on  your  statute-book.  It  makes  }^our 
judges  and  your  officers  at  court  but  so  many  masked 
players  in  a  play,  who  act  with  feigned  gravity  the 
parts  these  theological  comedians  have  allotted  them. 
What  a  huge  farce  it  is  to  try  a  man  because  he  is 
afflicted  with  disease  !  what  broad  fun  in  the  asser- 
tion, that  we  shut  a  man  up  in  Boston,  in  a  prison- 
cell,  if  he  has  "  misadjusted  faculties  "  !  what  grim 
humor  in  the  statement,  that  a  man  was  swung  off 
from  the  gallows  and  choked  to  death  because  he  was 
afflicted  with  an  "  hereditary  tendency  "  !  Did  Theo- 
dore Parker  hold  that  the  slave-trade  was  carried  on 
by  innocent  imbeciles,  by  people  suffering  under  a 
disease  which  deprived  them  of  all  blameworthiness 
in  the  matter?  No:  he  called  them  "monsters  of 
wickedness,"  "  intelligent  men-stealers,"  "  criminals 
before  God  and  man."  He  smote  them  with  words 
hot  as  fire,  with  invective  which  burnt  its  way  into 
whatever  it  touched,  invective  which  was  wicked  and 
cruel  in  itself  unless  it  was  deserved.  He  was  ortho- 
dox enough  when  he  talked  about  slavery.  When  he 
heard  the  bay  of  the  blood-hound ;  saw  the  panting 
slave-woman,  with  her  babe   in  her  arms,  dragged 


WICKEDNESS  OF  THE  HEART.  225 

down  by  the  savage  brute ;  when  he  heard  the  thud 
of  the  lash,  knotted  with  junks  of  lead,  on  her  bare, 
palpitating  back,  and  looked  into  the  face  of  the 
master  standing  by,  smoking  his  cigar,  quietly  enjoy- 
ing the  spectacle  of  torture,  —  the  screams,  the  groans, 
the  blood,  of  the  woman,  —  he  forgot  his  theology, 
his  poetic  theories  ;  and,  with  flaming  cheek  and  flash- 
ing eye,  he  held  him  up  before  the  intelligence  and 
virtue  of  the  old  Bay  State  as  the  "  embodiment  of 
devilishness,  and  an  outrage  upon  humanity." 

My  friends,  this  was  the  conviction  of  the  man, 
when,  with  unprejudiced  eyes,  he  saw  the  action  of 
wicked  men  and  their  character.  He  knew,  and  we 
all  know,  that  men  are  not  so  diseased  that  they 
are  not  responsible  for  their  acts.  There  is  no  such 
misadjustment  of  our  faculties  as  to  render  us  unac- 
countable. We  are  not  imbecile ;  we  are  not  lunatic. 
Our  wills  are  not  weakened  to  idiocy  ;  our  minds  are 
not  so  blinded  as  not  to  see.  We  are  all  capable.  We 
have  a  will  to  decide,  a  reason  to  consider,  a  moral 
sense  to  instruct.  We  are  creatures  of  premeditation 
and  device.  We  think  and  plan,  we  accept  and  reject. 
Every  mark  of  ability  is  seen  in  our  conduct.  And 
beyond  all  else  is  our  consciousness,  which  testifies 
both  to  our  power  and  our  guilt.  More  than  once  in 
our  lives  have  we  done  wrong,  —  done  it  in  spite  of 
knowledge  and  the  outspoken  rebukes  of  our  con- 
science. We  did  the  act,  knowing,  feeling,  that  it 
was  wrong ;  and  the  knowledge  and  feeling  remain  to 
this  day. 

You  see  the  importance  of  this  position  ;  for,  if 
10* 


226  WICKEDNESS   OF  THE  HEART. 

true,  it  changes  entirely  our  position  before  God  from 
what  it  is  if  it  is  not  true.  If  we  have  voluntarily 
transgressed  the  laws  of  right,  if  we  have  knowing- 
ly acted  against  God's  wish  and  will,  then  is  the  wick- 
edness of  the  heart  neither  accidental  in  its  character, 
nor  slight  in  degree.  Its  depravity  is  seen  to  be  na- 
tive, and  its  guilt  positive  and  intense  ;  and  our  con- 
sciences, when  they  condemn  us,  only  anticipate  the 
decision  of  God. 

My  friends,  this  is  precisely  the  fact  of  the  case. 
Our  consciences  do  only  anticipate  God's  judgment ; 
and  the  Bible,  as  vindicated  by  our  own  conscious- 
ness, is  true  when  it  says,  "  We  are  all  under  the  law. 
We  have  all  gone  astray.  There  is  none  that  doeth 
good  ;  no,  not  one." 

But,  friends,  if  you  would  know  and  tremble  at  the 
wickedness  of  the  heart,  look  within.  No  measuring 
of  the  surface  can  sound  the  ocean.  Down,  straight 
down,  into  the  unlighted  depths,  must  the  plummet 
go.  Fathom  after  fathom  must  it  descend  or  ever  it 
can  touch  the  bottom  of  the  deep,  and  gauge  the 
distance  downward.  So  is  it  with  the  human  heart : 
each  man  must  cast  the  lead  of  investigation  for  him- 
self, and  note  the  depth  of  his  depravity.  A  man 
who  stands  on  the  bank  along  the  verge  of  rapids 
can  never  realize  the  swiftness  of  the  current :  he 
must  shove  off  into  it,  feel  the  dip  of  the  boat  down- 
ward, feel  the  pressure  of  the  air  on  either  cheek  as 
his  face  cleaves  through  it,  hear  the  hiss  and  rasp  of 
the  waters  under  him,  seize  the  oars  and  measure 
his  strength  against  it,  and  by  his  best  efforts  barely 


WICKEDNESS   OF  THE   HEART.  227 

hold  his  own,  perhaps  not  even  that,  before  he  can 
ever  conceive,  much  less  estimate,  the  rush  and  sweep 
and  power  of  rapids.  So  it  is  with  our  estimate  of 
sin.  The  man  who  merely  sees  it  as  exhibited  in 
others,  the  man  who  reads  of  it  in  his  morning  pa- 
per, who  studies  it  as  manifested  in  society  at  large, 
knows  nothing  of  it.  If  he  would  know  of  its  vio- 
lence, of  its  cruel  persistence,  of  its  down-sweeping 
and  destructive  vehemence,  let  him  look,  not  at  others, 
but  at  himself;  let  him  recall  his  own  experiences 
and  struggles. 

Every  life  has  its  crisis,  every  soul  its  Gethsemane, 
when  friends  sleep,  and  powers  of  darkness  assail  and 
circle  it  with  horror.  Take  your  life,  friend,  and  single 
out  some  such  hour ;  an  hour  in  winch  virtue  and 
honor,  peace  of  conscience,  and  faith  in  God,  stood 
trembling  in  the  balance  ;  an  hour  when  unexpect- 
edly, and  by  no  fault  of  yours,  the  power  of  evil  am- 
bushed your  path,  and  set  upon  you  on  all  sides  at 
once,  taking  you  by  surprise ;  an  hour  in  which  all 
dear  to  you,  all  which  might  make  life  honorable 
or  death  peaceful,  all  that  might  crimson  the  portal 
of  the  grave,  and  in  the  azure  above  it  reveal  the  an- 
chor and  the  dove,  reeled  and  staggered  even  unto 
falling.  Praise  the  mercy  of  God  to-day  if  in  that 
hour  of  wind  and  rain  the  downbeating  and  onrush- 
ing  violence  of  it  swept  not  your  house  from  its 
foundations. 

But  in  the  remembered  trials  of  that  hour,  in  the 
struggle  and  agony  of  it,  in  the  resistance  it  elicited, 
in  the  bravery  it  demanded,  in  the  pressure  it  put 
upon  your  virtue,  behold  the  power  of  sin  ! 


228  WICKEDNESS   OF  THE   HEART. 

Or,  again,  leave  a  heart  to  its  own  natural  tenden- 
cies ;  let  its  natural  proneness  to  sin  go  on  unhindered 
unto  its  own  supremely  evil  consummation ;  let  no 
restraints  of  virtuous  education  be  put  upon  it ;  let  it 
be  unhampered  by  the  fear  of  public  opinion  ;  re  move 
the  obstructions  which  legal  enactments  heave  up  in 
its  murderous  course  ;  take  home  and  the  schoolhouse, 
the  voice  of  prayer  and  the  entreaty  of  friendship,  the 
admonition  of  wisdom,  the  pleadings  of  love,  and  the 
restraining  sight  of  virtue,  out  of  the  world,  —  and 
into  what  anarchy,  what  violence,  what  barbarism, 
what  licentiousness,  what  tiger-like  ferocity,  would 
not  the  world  plunge  ! 

Go  down  into  North  Street,  go  to  your  House  of 
Correction,  go  to  the  cellars  and  garrets  and  broth- 
els and  dens  of  your  city,  and  study  the  faces  of 
those  of  either  sex  who  burrow  under  the  very  roots 
of  your  metropolis ;  notice  their  faces,  bloated  with 
drink,  or  hollow  with  want ;  mark  their  bodies,  out 
of  which  the  divine  spirit  of  cleanliness  and  decency 
has  departed ;  look  into  their  eyes,  in  the  lure  and 
craving  and  cunning  and  effrontery  of  which  every 
lurking  devil  of  lust  and  appetite  and  lawlessness 
abides ;  take  up  that  infant,  with  its  sharp,  pinched 
face  and  fleshless  limbs,  fitter  for  the  coffin  than  the 
cradle,  —  go,  I  say,  and  standing  on  the  marge  of  this 
moral  cesspool,  with  your  feet  in  the  muck  and 
mire  of  its  rottenness,  look  over  into  this  sty  of 
human  animalism,  which  churches  that  ransack  the 
globe  for  a  spot  to  send  a  missionary  tolerate  under 
their  very  nose,  and  see  in  all  this  foul  and  purulent 


WICKEDNESS  OF  THE  HEART.  229 

mass  of  crime  and  corruption  into  what  a  depth  of 
depravity  the  human  heart,  left  to  the  law  of  its  own 
natural  tendencies,  will  plunge  and  sink  and  stay. 

Well,  is  it  owing  to  any  redeeming  quality  in  sin 
that  this  entire  city  is  not  like  North  Street  ?  Take 
the  world,  and  note  the  causes  which  have  made  one- 
half  of  it  moral  and  civilized  and  humane.  Observe 
what  an  infinite  purchase-capacity  God  has  been  com- 
pelled to  develop  in  order  to  heave  human  nature  up 
even  to  that  level  of  virtue  on  which  society  can  exist, 
and  estimate  into  what  darkness  and  brutality  the 
world  would  speedily  lapse  were  the  checks  and  re- 
straints of  knowledge  and  law  and  the  Bible  with- 
drawn. 

Rejoice,  Christians  and  non-professors  alike,  that  no 
such  thing  can  occur.  The  future  may  bring  many 
a  misfortune  to  man ;  but  it  can  never  bring  such  a 
calamity  as  that.  Between  the  human  heart  and  its 
natural  tendency  to  wrong-doing  a  mightier  than 
human  power  has  taken  its  stand.  Between  the 
cradle  and  the  grave  are  the  merciful  visitations  of 
God ;  and  there  will  they  be  forever.  Along  that  road 
which  is  broad,  which  leadeth  to  destruction,  and  into 
which  many  shall  enter,  the  angels  of  God,  and  those 
servants  of  his  like  unto  angels,  lacking  not  voice  of 
entreaty,  lacking  not  gesture  of  warning,  shall  stand, 
turning  many  from  death  unto  life,  snatching  many 
as  brands  from  the  burning ;  and  the  souls  of  those 
who  are  saved  will  be  jewels  in  the  crowns  of  their 
rejoicing  forever. 

My  friends,  the  phrase  "  desperately  wicked  "  is  one 


230  WICKEDNESS   OF  THE   HEART. 

of  those  descriptive  phrases,  one  of  those  scraps  of 
suggestive  word-painting,  most  difficult  for  the  mind 
to  comprehend. 

The  mind  goes  up  to  it  as  a  man  goes  cautiously 
up  to  an  old  shaft  deep  and  dark,  and  to  the  eye 
bottomless.  He  stretches  himself  at  full  length  along 
the  edge,  and  peers  shrinkingly  over  into  it,  but 
starts  shudderingly  back  as  a  rush  of  cold,  damp, 
impure  air  beats  up  into  his  face.  He  selects  a  stone, 
and  casts  it  in.  It  bounds  from  side  to  side,  publish- 
ing its  progress  downward  by  ever-decreasing  echoes  ; 
and,  when  the  last  faint  sound  has  reached  the  ear,  it 
leaves  upon  the  brain  the  impression  that  it  is  still 
descending,  —  whither,  or  how  far,  the  listener  can 
make  no  estimate. 

Well,  something  like  to  that  is  the  chasm  in  moral 
descent  which  this  phrase  opens.  This  pit  of  "  des- 
perate wickedness  "  —  who  can  sound  it  ?  Call  it  hell, 
and  drop  your  thought  down  into  it,  and  many  sug- 
gestions of  horror  like  muffled  echoes  rise  at  first; 
but  soon  you  reach  a  point  where  these  fail,  and  no 
sound  is  upsent  from  its  stupendous  depth,  and  no 
thought  comes  like  a  swiftly-flying  messenger  to  tell 
where  lies  the  bottom  of  that  dark  passage  and  ever- 
darkening  depth  to  which  the  wicked  sink,  or  rather, 
I  should  say,  into  which  the  wicked  are  ever  sinking. 
For  sin  is  one  interminable  declension,  an  unchecked 
and  everlasting  descent.  It  has  no  fixed  state  or 
condition.  It  is  motion  downward ;  motion  ever  ac- 
celerated; motion  never  arrested.  Hence  the  pit 
which  is  its  home  is  bottomless      Hence  the  wicked 


WICKEDNESS  OF  THE   HEART.  231 

are  ever  growing  more  wicked,  and  the  devilish  more 
and  more  depraved. 

You  have  seen  the  operations  of  this  law ;  your 
eyes  have  seen  the  development  of  this  gravitating 
principle  in  depravity  going  on  day  by  day  in  people  ; 
ay,  and  at  times  felt  it  in  your  own  bosoms. 

Have  not  all  of  you  who  are  present  had  periods 
of  declension  ?  Can  you  not  recall  one  and  another 
season  in  your  lives  in  which  the  inclination  of  your 
thoughts  and  acts  was  downward  ?  —  a  season  in 
which  you  grew  less  honest,  less  circumspect,  less 
pure,  less  careful  ?  You  feel  to-day  that  you  are  a 
better  man  or  woman  than  you  were  then.  You 
were  not  lost ;  you  did  not  make  a  castaway  of  your- 
self :  but  you  know  now  that  you  came  near  doing 
it ;  that,  but  for  some  intervening  restraint  and 
mercy,  you  would  have  gone  on  and  on  until  you 
would  have  taken  one  step  too  far,  and  been  lost. 
You  waded  far  out  enough  to  feel  the  pressure  of 
that  terrible  current  down  which  the  wealth  and 
honor  and  bodies  of  many  men  are  being  hurled  to- 
day. 

In  view  of  that  wickedness  of  which  the  heart  of 
man  is  capable,  in  view  of  its  hidden  as  well  as  its  ex- 
pressed transgressions,  in  view  of  its  inward  taint  and 
tumors,  its  veiled  leprosies  and  manifold  deceits,  well 
might  the  prophet  exclaim,  "  Who  can  know  it  ?  " 
Who  shall  ever  thread  the  labyrinth  of  sinful  motives 
through  which  the  babe  passed  from  the  cradle  to 
the  gallows  ?  Who  shall  explore  the  dark  caverns 
and  recesses  of  human  thought,  and  tell  to  the  upper 


232  WICKEDNESS  OF  THE  HEART. 

world  what  monsters  obnoxious  to  the  sight,  and  hor- 
rible, are  born  and  nourished  there  ?  Who  shall  force 
the  entrance  to  those  subterranean  passages  of  man's 
sinful  nature,  and  drag  to  light  the  evil  ministers 
that  wait  on  murder  and  blow  hot  the  torch  of  con- 
flagration ?  Who  shall  prove  himself  that  chemist  of 
character  able  to  gather  the  sediment  of  our  disposi- 
tions, and,  by  analysis,  trace  each  impure  combina- 
tion, each  low  desire,  each  group  of  carnal  craving, 
to  their  source,  detect  their  basal  elements,  write  out 
their  law  of  growth,  and  catalogue  them  properly 
in  the  order  of  evil  ?  If  knowledge  sufficient  were 
unto  any,  who  might  endure  the  wrack  and  torture 
of  the  effort?  No  one.  The  human  heart  is  a 
mystery ;  it  is  secret  with  the  secrecy  of  shame  and 
the  caution  of  undetected  guilt ;  and  the  judgment- 
day  will  be  a  day  to  astonish  the  universe  because  of 
the  revelations  it  will  make.  The  vindication  of  a 
penalty  which  now  appalls  some  men  will  be  seen  at 
the  unmasking  and  exhibition  of  a  depravity  more 
appalling  yet. 

Who  then  "  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of 
this  death  ? "  I  thank  God,  that,  through  Jesus 
Christ,  I  and  all  may  be  delivered.  Through  him 
man  can  obtain  not  alone  remission  of  the  penalty, 
but  what  to  every  noble  nature  seems  far  better,  — 
deliverance  from  the  taint  and  dominion  of  sin.  I 
ask  you  who  have  never  felt  the  quickening  of  the 
Spirit,  who  have  never  received  into  your  hearts 
any  divine  impulse,  to  look  at  your  natures  thought- 
fully a   moment.       Observe  how  full  of   vain   and 


WICKEDNESS   OP  THE- HEART.  233 

wicked  imaginations  are  your  minds  ;  how  essentially 
selfish  are  your  plans ;  how  sordid,  compared  with 
the  feelings  of  the  heavenly-minded,  are  your  desires. 
When  you  have  thus  soberty  analyzed  your  own 
natures,  look  abroad  over  the  world ;  behold  its 
iniquities,  its  lewdness,  its  cruelties,  its  oppressions, 
its  wars  and  bloodshed,  the  vulture-like  aptitudes 
which  go  out  in  search  of  pure  things  as  hawks  leave 
their  dark  perches  and  sail  forth  hunting  for  doves,  — 
and  then  tell  me  if  man  is  not "  desperately  wicked ;  " 
tell  me  if  any  theory,  any  philosophy,  must  not  be 
false  that  does  not  start  out  with  a  full  and  clear 
recognition  that  man  is  depraved. 

There  is  a  strong  current  setting  against  this  gene- 
ration, the  tendency  of  which  is  to  wash  men  and 
women  out  into  a  sea  of  loose  opinions  and  looser 
practices.  The  old  anchorages  where  our  fathers 
outrode  so  many  storms  in  safety  are  being  deserted, 
albeit  they  lie  within,  and  are  enclosed  round  about 
by  the  headlands  of  God's  truth.  Few  would  call  me, 
I  presume,  a  conservative  ;  and  yet  I  have  not  to-day, 
and  never  have  had,  any  sympathy  with  a  radicalism 
that  smites  both  gods  and  mummies  alike.  And  I 
call  upon  each  of  you  in  your  respective  spheres,  and 
according  to  the  measure  of  your  ability,  to  resist 
every  tendency  calculated  to  add  to  our  present  reck- 
lessness and  impatience  at  wise  and  salutary  restraint. 
I  see  that  the  old  traditions  are  losing  their  hold  on 
the  public  mind;  that  the  old  customs  are  passing 
away ;  that  the  old  conservative  habits  of  thought 
are  dying   out.     I  do  not  lament   it.     God  allows 


234  WICKEDNESS   OF   THE   HEART. 

nothing  to  perish  until  it  has -answered  its  use.  I 
only  pray  that  they  may  be  as  the  corn  when  it  is 
cast  into  the  earth,  whose  vital  principle  finds  a  fresher 
and  nobler  expression  in  dying,  and  discovers  that 
death  means  nothing  worse  than  a  multiplication  of 
its  own  life.  The  shuck  is  cast  off ;  but  it  is  cast  off 
because  the  expanded  and  expanding  germ  within 
can  no  longer  tolerate  the  bondage  of  its  pressure. 
The  future  will  be  fuller  in  its  girth,  and  nobler  of 
stature,  than  the  past.  It  will  have  strength  and 
wisdom  to  do  what  the  past  could  not  do.  It  will  be 
wise  with  that  wisdom  which  comes  alone  from  a 
knowledge  of  the  failures  and  imperfections  of  the 
dead.  I  care  not  for  forms ;  each  generation  has  its 
own  :  I  desire  only  that  the  truth  which  they  express 
be  cherished.  The  mode  of  expression  and  applica- 
tion will  be  changed  from  time  to  time ;  but  let  the 
doctrine  itself,  in  all  its  integrity,  abide. 


SABBATH  MORNING,  MAT  28,  1871. 


SERMON. 


SUBJECT-RESISTANCE  OF  EVIL. 
u  Submit  yourselves,  therefore,  to  God.    Resist  the  Devil,  and 

HE  WILL  FLEE  FROM  YOU."  —  James  iv.  7. 

"1VTOTHING  is  more  plainly  taught  in  the  Scrip- 
A-\  tures  than  that  men  are  exposed  to  satanic 
influence.  Indeed,  the  sacred  writers  as  plainly  an- 
nounce the  doctrine  of  a  diabolical  as  a  divine  agency 
in  the  world.  The  very  identical  terms  employed  to 
teach  the  one  are  employed  to  teach  the  other.  If 
they  speak  of  God  as  opening  the  eyes  of  the  under- 
standing, Satan  is  said  to  "  blind  the  mind,  that  it 
believe  not."  If  God  "  worketh  in  Christians  to 
will  and  to  do,"  Satan  is  the  "  spirit  that  worketh  in 
the  children  of  disobedience."  If  the  sanctified  are 
said  to  be  "  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost,"  "  why,"  said 
Peter  to  Ananias,  "  hath  Satan  filled  thy  heart  ?  " 

Such  is  the  testimony  of  Scripture.  It  is  plain 
and  unequivocal.  I  know  that  there  are  people  who 
deny  the  personal  existence  of  Satan  ;  but  you  have 
observed,  doubtless,  that  this  class  seldom  believe  in 
the  personality  of  God.  According  to  this  class  of 
writers  and  thinkers,  God  is  that  principle  of  order 

235 


236  RESISTANCE  OF  EVIL. 

which  is  ever  working  itself  out  in  all  manner  of 
lovely  sights  and  sweet  sounds  ;  and  thus  they  poet- 
ize God  into  a  supreme  and  volatile  essence,  until,  to 
their  mind,  he  has  neither  throne  nor  residence,  nor 
aught  of  the  coherence  essential  to  the  exercise  of 
wisdom  and  power.  And  this,  as  you  all  see,  strikes 
at  the  very  existence  of  divine  government ;  for 
with  the  very  conception  of  a  government  is  associat- 
ed the  accompanying  conception  of  a  person  or  per- 
sons. Government  means  rule,  authority,  law,  exe- 
cution. But  such  ideas  can  exist  only  as  you  associ- 
ate them  with  persons.  Where  there  is  neither  ruler 
nor  ruled,  there  is  no  government ;  and,  if  one  de- 
nies the  personality  of  God,  he  denies  also  the  exist- 
ence of  any  moral  go\  ernment.  And  out  of  this  de- 
nial is  born,  naturally  as  children  are  born  of  parents, 
license  of  thought  and  act,  and  the  utmost  security 
of  indulgence.  When  there  is  no  judge,  no  sheriff, 
no  agents,  to  enforce  law,  then  has  law  ceased,  and 
you  have  simply  civil  chaos. 

On  the  other  hand,  this  same  class,  logically  enough 
from  the  premise  of  their  assumption,  hold  that  Sa- 
tan is  merely  an  inharmonious  principle,  an  unhappy 
and  discordant  element,  at  war  with  the  element  of 
order ;  and  that  these  two  impersonal  forces  maintain 
their  essential  contest  without  individuality  of  pur- 
pose or  feeling.  There  is  to  them  no  more  personali- 
ty, no  more  intelligence,  no  more  moral  antagonism, 
than  between  two  currents,  which,  by  the  accident  of 
locality,  are  brought  in  contact,  and  fret  unconscious- 
ly against  each  other. 


RESISTANCE   OF  EVIL.  237 

In  this  atheistical  philosophy,  — for  you  see  that  it 
is,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  atheism,  in  that  it  prac- 
tically denies  that  there  is  a  God  in  any  such  sense  as 
the  Bible  teaches,  — in  this  atheistical  philosophy,  I 
say,  many  share  ;  and  some,  I  fear,  are  practically  in 
harmony  with  this  belief  who  have  never  defined  their 
feelings,  or  confessed  them  even   unto   themselves. 
The  burden  of  their  talk  is,  that  society  is  full  of 
evil  influences ;  that  men  are  overcome  by  tempta- 
tion, as  swimmers  in  an  evil  hour  are  overcome  by 
drifts  and  currents  which  seize  them  unawares  and 
sweep  them  away ;    that  men  are  unfortunately  ex- 
posed to  temptations,  and  overcome.    And  all  this,  in 
one  sense,  is  true.     There  are  currents  of  impulse, 
and  whirlwinds  of  passionate  forces,  and  temptations 
numberless,  to  which  we  all  are  exposed.     We  have 
all  felt  these  as  the  forest  feels  the  wind.     We  have 
been  blown  against  and  buffeted,  not  once,  but  many 
times,  and,  it  may   be,  prostrated   by  them.      But 
these  phrases  do  not  state  the  whole  truth  ;  they  do 
not  reveal  the  full  analysis.     Back  of  these  tenden- 
cies is  and  must  be  one  who  directs  them.    The  moral 
realm  is  not  a  mere  atmosphere.     The  movements  in 
it  are  not  like  the  movements  of  inanimate  air-cur- 
rents.    Men  are  not  like  trees.    Back  of  all  agencies, 
evil  or  good,  is  and  must  be  an  Agent.     For  every 
effect  there  must  be  a  cause.     Over  a  world  of  intel- 
ligence there  must  be  an  intelligent  Head,  as  there  is 
an  Author.    Law,  universal  and  harmonious,  is  not  the 
result  of  chance.     It  is  not  by  accident  that  the  stars- 
keep  their  orbits,  and  sweep  around  their  golden  en; 


238  RESISTANCE   OF   EVIL. 

cles  with  invariable  precision.  There  is  a  hand  that 
guides  them  around  their  eternally-appointed  course. 
There  is  a  central  glory,  by  reflecting  which  they 
shine.  The  Bible  theory  is  the  only  theory  that  can 
explain  the  manifest  phenomena  in  the  material  and 
moral  world.  There  is  a  God,  personal  in  his  attri- 
butes, and  intelligent ;  the  source  of  authority  ;  the 
embodiment  of  wisdom,  love,  and  power.  There  is, 
on  the  other  hand,  a  being  called  Satan,  equally  indi- 
vidual ;  a  creature  of  vast  cunning  and  power  and 
wickedness;  the  active,  persistent  adversary  of  God, 
and  of  those  of  us  who  desire  in  our  hearts  to  be  like 
God.  There  is  such  a  being,  therefore,  as  Satan  ; 
and,  when  men  are  commanded  "  to  resist  evil,"  it  is 
not  mere  influences  that  they  are  enjoined  to  with- 
stand, but  the  person,  the  evil  mind  and  wicked 
heart,  that  directs  them.  Hell  has  its  king  ;  and  all 
its  black  legions  o'bey  the  voice  that  first  hurled  defi- 
ance at  God.  He  lives  and  moves  as  the  directing 
cause  and  mainspring  of  all  the  wickedness  done 
under  the  sun.  Murder,  with  its  red  hand  and  all  its 
fingers  dripping  blood  ;  Conflagration  with  her  blazing 
torch ;  Rebellion  that  devastates  ;  and  all  the  lesser 
agents  of  evil, — these  are  his  children.  To  deny 
this  is  to  deny  the  Scripture ;  for  this  doctrine  is 
as  a  central  thread  in  its  strongly- woven  woof.  It  can 
be  withdrawn  only  in  the  disruption  of  the  entire 
piece. 

This  is  the  being,  then,  whom  we  are  commanded 
to  resist.  And,  among  other  reasons  for  so  doing,  1 
will  mention,  first,  this,  —  our  ability  to  do  it.  We 
can  resist  evil. 


RESISTANCE   OF   EVIL.  239 

No  one  is  compelled  to  sin.  If  sin  is  involuntary, 
then  none  would  be  responsible  for  it ;  for  the  sole 
guilt  of  sin  lies  in  this,  —  the  ability  of  the  sinner  to 
restrain  himself.  Hell  is  a  voluntary  association. 
If  a  man  places  the  point  of  a  dagger  over  my  heart, 
and,  seizing  my  hand  with  a  power  I  cannot  resist, 
presses  it  suddenly  against  the  hilt,  and  drives  it 
home,  am  I  a  suicide  ?  Certainly  not ;  because  my 
will  did  not  consent  to  the  act.  I  was  forced,  com- 
pelled. The  power  to  resist  is  not  mine.  But,  ob- 
serve, if  I  seize  the  knife  myself,  I  care  not  under 
the  pressure  of  what  temptation,  and,  feeling  for  a 
place  to  get  it  in,  enter  it  between  the  ribs,  and  crowd 
hard  on  it  until  the  thin  blade  is  buried  to  the  hilt 
in  the  quivering  flesh,  am  I  not  a  murderer  ?  Am  I 
not  guilty  before  God  of  taking  my  own  life  ?  And 
will  not  the  unholy  deed  condemn  me  at  the  judg- 
ment ?  A  man,  you  see,  must  be  able  to  refuse  in 
order  to  make  his  consent  criminal. 

Now,  this  is  true  in  fact  as  well  as  theory.  Expe- 
rience is  on  the  side  of  our  argument.  Look  at  it  a 
moment. 

My  hearer,  take  some  slip  in  your  life,  and  examine 
it :  I  mean  any  of  you.  Pick  out  some  particular  day 
or  hour  in  your  life  wherein  you  did  wrong.  Fasten 
your  memory  on  some  act  or  thought  you  now  regret. 
Do  you  not  remember  how  unpleasantly  you  felt 
before  you  did  it,  while  doing  it,  —  unless  it  were  a  sin 
of  passion,  and  frenzied  you,  — and  after  it  was  done  ? 
Can  you  not  recall,  and  feel  over  again  almost,  the 
revulsion  which  came  over  you  after  the  transaction, 


240  RESISTANCE   OF   EVIL. 

and  conscience  spoke  up  ?  Perhaps  you  halted,  re- 
fused, debated,  strove  to  shake  yourself  loose  from 
the  temptation,  but  at  last,  under  the  spell  of  its  ter- 
rible fascination,  yielded.  For  hours,  perhaps  for  days, 
the  scales  swung  in  even  poise ;  but  finally  Satan  pre- 
vailed, and  you  did  what  you  regret  unto  this  day. 
How  stoutly  virtue  defends  itself!  and  how  gradually 
come  upon  us  the  approaches  of  sin  !  Well,  it  is  in 
this  halting  process  that  we  find  proof  of  guilt.  In 
the  clear  light  of  this  inspection,  man  is  seen  to  be  the 
arbiter  of  his  own  destiny.  The  overtures  of  God 
and  the  Devil  being  made,  between  the  two,  the  man 
himself,  by  a  single  and  decisive  act  of  his  will,  must 
make  a  decision.  Hesitate  as  you  may,  struggle  as  you 
may,  magnify  your  temptation  all  you  can  ;  yet  all 
this  can  never  undo  the  fact,  that,  to  each  suggestion 
of  evil  and  good,  you  yourself  make  a  decision.  To 
each  proposition  of  virtue  and  vice  you  finally  say 
Yes  or  No.  Nothing  brings  out  so  sharply  the  per- 
sonality of  man  as  some  act  of  sin.  It  brings  him 
out  into  the  foreground  as  an  agent.  He  has  the 
universe  as  the  witness  to  his  conduct.  His  decision 
is  his  decision,  and  against  God,  in  whom  all  which  is 
assailable  by  vice  finds  expression. 

I  wish  each  of  you,  in  whatever  you  may  purpose 
of  evil,  to  feel  this.  Upon  the  edge  of  this  terrible 
ability  to  resist  God  plant  yourself,  and  behold  the 
abyss  at  your  feet.  Out  of  this  thought  comes  also 
what  might  be  called  the  hopefulness  of  morality. 
The  assurance,  "Resist  the  Devil,  and  he  wWl  flee  from 
you"  is  a   blessed  and   needed  one.      The   thought 


RESISTANCE  OF  EVIL.  241 

that  you  can  succeed  in  keeping  your  hand  and  heart 
clean  is   a  constant  inspiration  to  persevere.      The 
contest,  as  waged  by  every  man  and  woman  against 
evil,  is  no  longer  a  heavy,  dragging,  spiritless  contest, 
but  a  brave  and  hopeful  one.     Through  the  heavy, 
lead-like  color  of  our  despair  breaks  the  flush  of  am- 
ber, of  orange,  and  of  rose.     The  current  we  stand  in 
is  deep,  swift,  and  hissing ;   and  who  of  us,  at  times, 
is  not  swayed  and  staggered  by  it  ?     But  there  is  no 
reason  why,  by  care  and  effort,  —  a  careful  placing  of 
the  feet,  and  keeping  our  powers  well  collected,  — 
we  cannot  make  headway  against  it.     We  do  make 
headway.     I  trust  there  is  no  one  of  you,  who  has 
lived  any  considerable  number  of  years,  who  does  not 
feel  that  you  are  better,  more  noble  and  honest,  than 
you  once  were.     May  God  keep  all  of  us  from  living 
a  life  like  to  a  corpse  in  this,  —  that  the  passage  of 
time  brings  nothing  but  darker  discoloration  and  cor- 
ruption to  it !     I  take  no  sombre  view  of  humanity. 
The  leaven  working  in  the  race  is  not  inoperative. 
The  Light  that  has  come  into  the  world,  and  shined 
upon  so  many  hearts,  is  quickening  the  germinal  ca- 
pacities of  man  for  virtue.     The  race  is  slowly  but 
surely  forging  ahead.     The  waters  behind  are  white 
with  the   freshening   breeze  ;    and   the  purposes  of 
God,  like  a  mighty  wind,  will  put  an  increasing  press- 
ure upon  the  sails,  and  blow  them  grandly  along.    As 
a  fleet  of  great  merchantmen,  impelled  by  the  steady 
trade-winds,  —  their  yards  like  bars  of  gold,  their  ropes 
like  lines  of  ruby,  —  go  sailing  at  morning  toward  the 
east  and  the  rising  sun ;  so  the  race,  in  all  its  powers 
11 


242  RESISTANCE   OF   EVIL. 

and  motives,  will  be  grandly  luminous  as  it  moves  on 
into  the  light  of  the  millennium. 

To  realize  the  full  effect  of  this  thought  upon 
character,  to  see  how  much  it  weighs  in  the  balance 
of  man's  conduct,  single  out  some  young  man  in  this 
audience,  and  observe  its  effect  upon  him.  Grant 
that  he  has  sense  enough  to  see  that  his  present 
course  is  leading  him  downward,  conscience  quick 
enough  to  regret  it,  and  virtue  enough  to  wish  that 
it  were  not  so :  in  brief,  imagine  him  standing  in 
that  position  in  which  every  young  man  stands  once 
or  twice  in  his  life,  in  which  he  asks  himself,  "  Can 
I  be  good  ?  "  Suppose  some  habit  has  fastened  itself 
on  him,  and,  leech-like,  is  so  drawing  the  blood  out  of 
him,  that  he  is  frightened,  and  says,  "  Would  to  God 
I  could  deliver  myself  of  this  !  "  Now,  it  makes  a 
great  difference  with  that  young  man's  conduct,  as 
he  debates  that  question,  —  the  most  momentous 
question  of  his  life,  upon  the  decision  of  which  all 
his  life  hangs,  —  what  conclusion  he  arrives  at.  The 
worst  possible  feeling  that  he  can  yield  to  at  that 
moment  is  that  of  despair.  Then,  too,  it  is  that  the 
value  of  a  hopeful,  cheering  word,  a  friendly  grip  of 
the  hand,  or  even  a  look  bespeaking  confidence  in 
him,  is  incalculable.  It  acts  as  an  electric  shock  on 
the  benumbed  powers  of  his  moral  nature  ;  it  puts 
stiffness  into  his  weak  will ;  it  banishes  the  dark  and 
gloomy  thoughts  out  of  his  heart,  and  strings  him 
up  to  the  requisite  tension.  Out  of  such  a  loose,  un- 
strung life,  some  of  God's  best  melody  often  comes. 

Now,  in  such  a  crisis,  the  man  must  feel  that  he 


RESISTANCE   OF   EVIL.  243 

can  succeed,  or  he  will  not  even  try.  Every  starter 
must  have  some  hope  of  winning,  or  he  will  not  enter 
to  run.  Hence  the  significance  of  this  promise.  It 
follows  the  command  as  the  bugle  of  victory  follows 
the  deadly  charge.  It  is  God's  premium  on  effort 
morally  directed.  The  promise,  you  observe,  is  un- 
qualified. It  is  not,  "  Resist  the  Devil,  and  he  may 
flee  from  you  ;  "  but  he  shall  do  it.  Subtle  and  cunning 
as  he  is,  persistent  and  eager  as  he  is,  yet  in  him  is  no 
power  to  make  successful  resistance  to  him,  who,  pan- 
oplied in  noble  determination,  does  battle  for  his  life 
and  the  life  of  his  soul.  There  are  crowns  hidden 
somewhere  in  the  future  for  all ;  and,  for  hands  that 
grasp  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  palms  and  harps  are 
waiting. 

To  live  ignobly,  friends,  is,  therefore,  to  live  un- 
worthy of  your  clearest  possibilities.  In  the  waters 
of  this  assurance  the  dirtiest  may  wash  and  be 
cleansed.  Behind  the  impossibility  of  betterment  no 
one  can  take  refuge  ;  for  there  is  no  such  impossibil- 
ity. Circumstances  may  be  against  you,  past  habits 
against  you,  present  irresolution  against  you ;  but 
your  future  is  unencumbered.  The  Devil  holds  no 
mortgage  on  that.  It  is  yours  to  have  and  to  hold, 
young  man,  and  use  as  you  see  fit ;  and  God, 
through  this  text  of  ours,  comes  to  each  one  of  you 
to-day,  and  asks  you  how  you  will  use  it.  "I  care 
nothing  about  your  past,"  he  says  :  "  every  day  may 
have  been  squandered.  Here  is  the  future.  Not  a 
day  of  it  has  been  touched,  not  an  hour  used.  I 
give  it  to  you  as  a  free  gift,  with  all  its  chances  of 


244  RESISTANCE  OP   EVIL. 

improvement,  its  opportunities  of  usefulness,  its  ex- 
hortations to  virtue.  Only  '  resist  evil,'  only  stand 
firm,  only  try,  and  whatever  of  good  you  in  your 
better  moments  crave  will  come  to  you,  and  abide 
with  you,  as  the  light  of  the  sun  to-day  comes  to  the 
earth,  eliciting  its  manifold  fruitage,  and  illuminating 
it  from  pole  to  pole.  Yea,  your  life  shall  be  like  a 
globe  belted  and  zoned  with  expressions  of  life  ;  and 
never  shall  there  be  an  hour  when  some  portion  of 
it  shall  not  be  in  flower  and  fruitfulness." 

This,  then,  is  what  constitutes  the  ugliness  of  sin,  — 
that  it  is  done  from  the  heart.  The  author  of  sin  is 
not  content  to  increase  sin  merely :  he  wants  sinners  as 
well  as  sin.  He  strives  not  only  to  scatter  the  venom, 
but  to  multiply  fangs.  He  desires,  also,  men  to  be  sin- 
ful in  and  of  themselves,  —  powers  to  work  for  him 
independent  of  him,  as  it  were.  He  delights  to  have  his 
agents  do  their  work  with  a  personal  relish  in  it ;  and 
thus  he  sustains  through  all  his  hellish  legions  a  certain 
fiendish  esprit  de  corps.  Even  as  God  wishes  volun- 
tary saints,  Satan  longs  for  voluntary  devils. 

But  again:  the  wisdom  of  this  injunction,  "Resist 
the  Devil,"  is  seen  when  you  reflect,  that  in  resistance, 
and  resistance  alone,  is  safety.  Between  this  and 
some  other  course  there  is  no  election  :  you  must  fight, 
or  die.  My  friends,  on  some  streams  you  can  drift  : 
but,  in  the  rapids  which  plunge  hellward,  no  man  can 
lie  on  his  back,  and  float ;  he  must  keep  in  quick  ner- 
vous action,  or  sink.  In  his  desire  to  possess  the  soul, 
Satan  is  insatiable.  He  does  not  want  followers :  he 
wants  slaves.     He  is  never  satisfied  until  he  gets  the 


RESISTANCE  OF  EVIL.  245 

soul  under  his  feet.  When  his  foot  is  on  its  neck,  and 
he  can  put  the  pressure  of  hell  upon  it  at  any  mo- 
ment, he  is  content ;  not  before. 

Take  the  drunkard  as  an  illustration.  Consider  by 
what  easy  stages  Satan  posted  him  to  his  ruin.  Was 
not  the  first  glass  sweet,  and  its  taste  pleasant  ?  Did 
it  not  give  play  to  fancy,  and  delightful  fluency  to  the 
tongue  ?  Did  it  not  warm  the  blood,  and  thrill  the 
nerves  ?  Poverty,  dishonor,  disease,  and  a  loathsome 
death,  were  not  revealed  to  his  eye  as  he  drained  the 
glass,  proffered,  perhaps,  by  beauty's  hand.  Would  to 
God  they  had  been  !  Would  that  he  might  then  have 
seen  standing  there,  glass  in  hand,  amid  the  gayety 
that  rippled  around  him,  rising  in  vivid  vision  out  of 
that  beaded  glass,  the  woes  that  were  to  come  in  long 
and  ghastly  procession  !  Would  that  he  could  have 
seen  the  rags  and  tears,  and  heard  the  wails  and  the 
swift-smiting  curses,  that  were  to  be  for  him  and  his  ! 
Then  would  the  coiled  serpent  have  been  revealed ; 
and,  with  one  quick,  nervous  resolution,  he  would 
then  and  there  have  cast  the  horrid  peril  from  him. 
•My  people,  do  you  ever  think  of  the  number  of  the 
graves  where  drunkards  sleep  ?  How  heavily  revolves 
the  earth  under  the  burden  of  these  !  —  heavily,  I  say  ; 
for  every  grave  is  weighted,  not  with  iron  or  lead,  but 
with  that  which  is  far  heavier  than  these  in  the  bal- 
ance of  God,  —  despair.  "  Write  on  my  tombstone," 
screamed  a  dying  drunkard  once,  —  "write  on  my 
tombstone,  and  make  the  letters  large,  and  hew  them 
deep ;  write  but  one  word, '  Despair ! '  "  There  is  not 
a  person  here,  I  presume,  who  would  stab  a  man  :  yet 


246  RESISTANCE  OF   EVIL. 

there  are  men  here  into  whose  side  you  had  better 
drive  a  knife,  and  let  life  out  forever,  than  to  offer 
a  glass  of  wine  ;  for,  should  they  drink,  out  of  them 
would  go  what  is  sweeter  and  nobler  than  life,  —  hope 
and  love,  and  fealty  to  virtue.  Yet  are  there  women 
who  forget  not  to  pray  at  night ;  who,  in  their  igno- 
rance or  thoughtlessness,  have  caused  men  to  become 
drunkards.  Such  ignorance,  formerly,  God  winked  at ; 
but  now  has  he  caused  such  light  to  shine  upon  this 
question,  that  those  who  sin  must  sin  against  light. 
O  my  people  !  pray  for  the  men  who  stand  in  peril ; 
put  the  arms  of  your  solicitude  around  them,  and 
steady  them ;  strengthen  the  weak  will ;  confirm 
the  feeble  purpose ;  help  them  to  resist  the  Tempter. 
When  we  have  done  our  utmost,  thousands  even  then 
will  perish.  Alas  for  the  men  who  rot  out  of  exist- 
ence ;  who  are  like  trees  when  sap  and  life  are  gone,  — 
unsightly  formations  of  exhaustion  and  decay  ! 

If  ever  one  might  pray  to  die,  it  is  such.  If  ever 
the  silver  cord  might  be  loosed  or  the  golden  bowl 
be  broken  without  regret,  it  is  then,  when  life  has 
Lost  not  only  its  joys,  but  its  usefulness,  and  the  re- 
morse of  the  present  has  rendered  the  future  harm- 
less. Oh  charitable  the  earth  that  consents  to  cover 
such !  Oh  kind  the  graves  that  hold  and  hide  such 
wrecks  and  secrets  of  pollution  ! 

But  Satan  is  cunning  ;  and  as  the  strokesman  pats 
the  neck  of  the  silly  beeve  until  he  has  noosed  it  for 
the  slaughter,  so  he  beguiles  man  until  he  has  him 
fully  in  his  power.  No  moderate  drinker  but  that 
laughs  at  the  idea  of  ever  being  a  drunkard ;  and  yet 


RESISTANCE   OF   EVIL.  247 

every  drunkard  of  to-day  is  from  the  ranks  of  the 
moderate  drinkers  of  twenty  years  back,  and  every 
drunkard  of  twenty  years  ahead  will  come  from  the 
ranks  of  the  moderate  drinkers  of  to-day.  Thus  is  it 
with  all  its  doings.  Hell  is  patient ;  but  it  is  the 
patience  which  springs  from  the  knowledge  that  cer- 
tain causes  inevitably  lead  to  certain  results.  Young 
men,  by  gradual  processes,  are  brought  to  be  drunk- 
ards. By  the  same  devilish  gradations,  young  girls, 
spotless  and  white,  are  made  to  fill  brothels.  And 
thus,  converging  from  every  village  and  city  in  the 
land,  from  houses  and  cradles  widely  apart,  the  vast 
throng,  a  mighty  caravan  of  lost  souls,  moves  to  the- 
gates  of  hell  with  jest  and  mirth,  the  clash  of  cym- 
bals, and  the  uplifting  of  insanely-jubilant  feet. 

The  fact  is,  there  is  no  end  to  wrong-doing  or  ill- 
feeling  if  you  once  begin,  unless  you  break  sharp  off. 
Give  temptation,  —  I  do  not  mean  temptation  in  the 
abstract,  but  temptation  as  it  comes  to  you  every  day 
in  the  daily  round  of  business  and  pleasure, — give 
it,  I  say,  a  spot  on  which  to  rest  its  lever,  and  it  will 
topple  over  the  stoutest  virtue.  A  man  should  lit- 
erally "  watch  and  pray  "  if  he  would  keep  out  of 
peril.  Some  people,  perhaps  all  of  us  at  times,  coax 
the  Devil  to  enter  them.  They  unnecessarily  and 
repeatedly  put  themselves  in  the  way  of  temptation. 
Like  the  shining  fish  on  the  edge  of  the  maelstrom, 
they  play  about  in  the  terrible  suction  of  their  appe- 
tites. They  recklessly  dash  into  currents  in  which 
not  one  man  in  ten  can  stand.  What  wonder  you 
are  growing  to  love  money  too  much,  my  hearer  ?  do 


248  RESISTANCE  OF  EVIL. 

not  all  your  surroundings  nurse  the  passion  ?  Look 
at  the  company  that  young  man  keeps,  the  char- 
acter and  habits  of  his  chums,  the  places  to  which 
he  resorts,  and  tell  me  if  it  is  any  wonder  that  his 
employers  are  anxious,  and  his  friends  alarmed.  It 
seems  to  me,  at  times,  as  if  men  searched  for  cur- 
rents to  sweep  them  away,  and  pits*  into  which  to 
stumble.  I  am  fast  growing  to  think  that  what  men 
call  temptation  is  very  often  nothing  short  of  sheer, 
criminal  carelessness;  and  that  the  apostle  James 
covered  the  whole  ground,  and  exhausted  the  re- 
sources of  statement,  when  he  insisted  that  men 
were  tempted  when  "  led  away  by  their  lusts  and 
enticed." 

In  view  of  what  we  have  said,  receive  the  exhorta- 
tion of  the  text. 

Resistance  of  evil  is  the  only  way  to  overcome  evil. 
All  of  us  will  be  assailed.  Let  us  put  on,  therefore, 
the  whole  armor  of  God.  Above  all,  see  to  it  that 
your  resistance  has  a  heart  in  it.  There  is  a  seeming 
resistance  which  is  not  real  resistance ;  and  the  Devil 
knows  it.  There  is  a  hesitating,  half-and-half  kind 
of  refusal,  which  invites  a  second  solicitation.  The 
Tempter  loves  to  hear  a  man  say  "No"  as  if  he 
wanted  all  the  while  to  say  "  Yes ; "  for  he  knows 
that  such  a  person  is  really  with  him  at  heart,  and 
will  be  with  him  in  act  ere  long.  Satan  sees  when 
you  have  a  secret  hankering  after  what  you  profess 
not  to  like :  he  knows  when  you  are  virtuous  from 
a  fear  of  the  consequences  rather  than  from  a  high 
sense  of  obedience. 


RESISTANCE   OF   EVIL.  249 

I  feel  that  some  of  you  may  be  of  the  number 
of  those  to  whom  life  in  the  flesh  is  but  one  pro- 
longed battle.  To  this  you  were  predestined  at  birth. 
The  elements  of  contention  were  distilled  into  you 
through  either  parent.  Like  Hercules,  you  may  be 
said  to  have  contended  with  serpents  in  your  cradles. 
Would,  as  did  he,  you  had  slain  them  !  Remember 
that  you  are  at  once  pilgrims  and  crusaders :  with 
mailed  hand  and  blistering  feet  you  must  urge  your 
way  toward  the  holy  city  ;  and  only  after  years  of 
conflict,  fought  out  in  deserts  and  on  mountain-side, 
—  conflicts  unpublished  and  unknown,  —  faint,  and 
covered  with  scars,  bleeding  from  many  an  unhealed 
wound,  —  never  until  then  will  you  find  peace  and 
victory  as  you  lay  yourselves  down  at  the  tomb  of 
Christ,  and  die. 

But  let  me  encourage  you.  Into  the  din  of  your 
conflict  with  Satan  I  launch  this  note  of  inspiration  : 
Feel  that,  no  matter  how  thick  the  foes  may  swarm, 
victory  lies  ahead  ;  feel  that  there  is  a  nobler  life 
than  you  have  thus  far  lived  awaiting  you  ;  that 
there  are  new  and  higher  orders  of  thought  to  which 
your  intellect  shall  yet  climb  ;  ranges  of  feeling  inex- 
perienced as  yet  on  the  earth,  whose  joy  is  yet  to  be 
yours,  and  aspirations  which  shall  grow  to  you  in  the 
fulness  of  time  as  wings  to  waiting  birds.  Oh  that 
a  breath  might  come  to  you  to-day  out  of  that  fra- 
grant future !  Oh  for  a  glimpse  of  that  transparent 
atmosphere,  through  which,  as  we  see  the  blush  in 
alabaster,  the  pure  in  heart  see  God !  The  fathers 
sleep  beneath  us  ;  the  race  along  the  incline  of  privi- 
11* 


250  RESISTANCE   OF   EVIL. 

lege  and  opportunity  moves  upward,  and  will  con- 
tinue to  move  until  their  feet  shall  stand  upon  that 
table-land  which  marks  the  summit  of  human  de  vel- 
opment,  where  Christ  "  shall  see  of  the  travail  of  his 
soul,  and  be  satisfied."  Then,  standing  amid  the  ran- 
somed race,  in  the  midst  of  that  blessed  state  of 
which  he  is  the  source  and  cause,  shall  he  say,  "  For 
this  I  died.  To  make  men  strong  in  goodness,  and 
equal  in  privilege ;  to  make  them  Godlike  in  their 
state,  as  the  Father  made  them  Godlike  in  their  facul- 
ties, —  this  was  my  object.  No  longer  may  the  souls 
that  are  beneath  the  altar  complain ;  for  wickedness 
among  men  is  ended,  and  I  behold  the  blossoming  of 
that  consummate  flower,  which,  through  all  these  ages, 
was  nourished  and  perfected  of  God."  Then  shall  a 
shout  arise  such  as  heaven  had  never  heard  or  felt 
until  then,  and  a  choral  worthy  of  the  audience  and 
the  hour  shall  swell ;  and  the  words  that  ride  like 
stately  ships  upon  the  waves  of  sound  shall  be, 
"  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain  to  receive  power 
and  riches  and  wisdom  and  strength  and  honor  and 
glory  and  blessing  !  " 

Who  here  is  resisting  evil  ?  Who  here,  in  the  spirit 
of  which  I  have  spoken,  is  acting  as  our  text  enjoins  ? 
And  who  of  us,  ashamed  of  our  weak  and  half-hearted 
resistance  in  the  past,  are  pledging  ourselves  to  a  more 
strenuous  and  persevering  resistance  in  the  future  ? 
The  heart  ready  to  make  that  pledge  is  ready  to 
receive  God's  blessing,  and  in  that  state  of  readiness 
has  already  received  it. 


SABBATH  MORNING,  JUNE  4,  1871. 


sermon: 


SUBJECT.- LIVING  FOR  GOD'S  GLORY. 


11  Whether,  therefore,  ye  eat  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do 

ALE  TO  THE  GEORY  OF  GOD." —  1  Cor.  X.  31. 

THIS  injunction  has  been  and  is  greatly  abused 
in  practice,  and  in  two  entirely  opposite  ways. 
The  one  party  abuses  it  by  paying  no  attention  to  it 
at  all.  They  care  nothing  about  God's  glory ;  they 
do  not  strive  to  advance  it;  it  is  a  matter  of  su- 
preme indifference  to  them  :  they  care  nothing  for  it 
one  way  or  the  other. 

The  other  p^rty  is  composed  of  those  who  do  care 
about  it,  and,  indeed,  are  exceedingly  anxious  that 
they  may  fulfil  this  injunction  perfectly.  Giving 
the  most  literal  and  matter-of-fact  interpretation  to 
the  command,  they  worry  themselves  over  every 
little  detail  of  conduct  and  each  individual  act. 
They  are  morbidly  sensitive.  They  are  Christian 
legalists,  good-hearted  Pharisees.  Among  them  are 
many  whose  piety  is  ignorant,  whose  minds  are  nar- 
row and  illogical, —  people  unable  to  see  but  one  tree 
in  a  landscape.  As  a  class,  they  are  quite  accurately 
typed  and  represented  by  a  good  old  saint  who  came 

*  This  or  the  next  issue  will  be  the  last  till  the  close  of  Mr.  Murray's 
vacation,  — Sept.  3.  251 


252  LIVING   FOE   GOD'S  GLORY. 

to  belabor  me  once  because  I  played  chess  ;  and  who 
ended  the  discussion,  and  exhausted  argument,  to  her 
own  mind  at  least,  when  she  exclaimed,  "  Can  you 
believe,  Mr.  Murray,  that  moving  those  heathenish 
idols  of  bone  over  a  board  with  Masonic  characters 
upon  it  is  acting  for  the  glory  of  Qod  ?  "  She  re- 
garded that  as  conclusive,  —  a  shot  between  wind 
and  water ;  and,  having  delivered  it  as  a  farewell 
volley,  departed. 

I  have  heard  a  deal  of  nonsense  and  stupidity 
based  upon  this  text.  I  have  heard  it  so  interpreted 
in  prayer-meeting  exhortation,  and  even  in  one  or 
two  sermons,  that  no  human  being  could  obey  it; 
and  all  the  good  it  did  was  to  disgust  the  sensible, 
and  pain  the  conscientious  but  unlearned  disciple. 
But  no  one  has  any  right  to  so  interpret  and  apply 
truth  as  to  make  it  a  stumbling-block  to  the  soul  that 
is  honestly  striving  after  goodness.  We  have  no 
right  to  so  define  a  command  as  to  make  obedience 
to  it  simply  impossible. 

Now,  friends,  I  will  speak  for  a  few  moments  in 
exposition  of  this  passage  ;  will  show  you  how  it  can- 
not, and  how  it  can,  be  obeyed.  You  shall  have  my 
idea  of  it,  and  the  standpoint  from  which  I  regard  it. 

The  question  first  is,  "  What  is  meant  by  the 
4  glory  of  God '  ?  When  is  a  thing  done  for  the 
"«  glory  of  God  '  ?  " 

Fix  first  in  mind  this  thought,  that  no  deeds  of  ours 
add  to  or  detract  from  God's  glory.  He  is  himself 
the  source  of  his  own  glory.  There  is  not  an  angel 
or  saint  in  heaven  that  can  add  a  single  beam  to  the 


LIVING  FOR  GOD'S  GLORY.  253 

radiant  orb  of  his  perfection;  there  is  not  a  devil 
in  hell  or  a  sinner  on  earth  that  can  pluck  out  or 
darken  a  single  ray  of  that  divine  brightness  which 
fills  all  heaven  with  light.  God's  glory  is  not  con- 
tingent on  the  acts  of  any  creature.  From  all  eter- 
nity he  has  been  what  he  is ;  and  to  all  eternity  will 
he  remain  the  same. 

When  we  do  any  thing  for  the  glory  of  God,  it  is 
not  to  increase,  to  add  to,  his  glory,  —  for  that  we  can 
never  do,  —  but  to  bring  his  glory  out,  and  make  it 
appear  to  the  eyes  of  men.  We  do  not  give  him 
what  he  has  not,  but  cause  what  he  has  to  be  seen  of 
men.  A  man  who  acts  worthily,  as  God  enjoins, 
causes  men  to  acknowledge  the  source  and  origin  of 
his  worthiness.  Thus  the  mother  is  honored  when 
her  son  is  honored :  so,  too,  her  virtue  shines  again 
in  the  virtue  of  her  daughter.  Any  honorable  con- 
duct, any  graciousness  of  speech,  any  sweetness  of 
disposition,  which  recognizes  God  as  its  author  and 
source,  is  for  the  glory  of  God ;  that  is,  makes  the 
essential  elements  of  his  character  to  be  loved. 

Now,  this  definition  does  away  with  that  objective 
obedience  to  our  text  upon  which  so  many  insist,  and 
substitutes  a  subjective  form  of  obedience.  It  for- 
bids the  particularizing  of  acts  and  motives,  and 
takes  into  view  the  habitual  state  of  the  soul  and 
the  tenor  of  the  life.  Now,  we  all  know  that  the 
human  mind  is  subject  to  many  motives ;  that  these 
motives  are  of  various  degrees  of  intensity.  God 
did  not  make  man  to  act  as  a  piece  of  machinery 
held  to  its  course  by  bolt  and  s^rew :  he  made  man 


254  LIVING  FOR  GOD'S  GLORY. 

for  liberty,  —  the  liberty  of  self-action.  In  all  his 
impulses  and  sympathies  there  is  a  wide  margin,  a 
lateral  sweep  and  swing  of  his  powers,  a  certain 
playfulness  and  unrestrained  action  of  his  faculties. 
One  duty,  also,  often  includes  other  duties :  the  many 
are  wrapped  up  in  the  one,  —  some  larger,  some 
smaller.  We  cannot  do  them  all  at  once.  We  can- 
not have  one  and  the  same  feeling  in  doing  them. 
One  duty  demands  for  its  performance  a  great  im- 
pulse ;  another  is  served  by  a  much  weaker  incen- 
tive. One  fixed  state  of  mind,  of  invariable  intensity, 
depth,  and  fervor,  is  not  expected  nor  required. 
Take,  for  an  illustration,  a  father's  feelings  toward 
his  children  and  household.  Take  a  business-man 
down  town,  as  he  sits  in  his  office,  or  pushes  past 
you  on  the  streets.  Of  what  is  he  thinking  ?  Is  it 
of  wife  and  children  ?  Not  at  all.  In  thought  he 
is  making  a  bargain.  His  affections  are  not  now  in 
the  ascendency;  but  judgment,  calculation,  fore- 
thought, are  uppermost.  Yet  he  is  a  father  and  a 
husband  as  truly  as  if  he  had  his  boy  on  his  knee, 
and  his  wife  by  his  side.  He  is  fulfilling  his  duty  as 
head  of  a  family,  although  he  is  not  at  the  moment 
thinking  of  his  family.  He  is  walking  by  the  light 
of  the  sun,  although  his  eye  is  not  on  the  sun.  He  is 
performing  a  great  duty,  although  the  duty  is  not  in 
his  mind  at  all. 

Something  like  this  is  our  relation  to  God.  The 
great  duty  of  our  life  is  to  glorify  him  ;  but  they 
make  a  great  mistake  who  think  that  that  must  con- 
tinually be  the  uppermost  thought.    A  carriage-maker 


LIVING    FOR   GOD'S   GLORY.  255 

does  not  make  a  wheel  all  at  once,  but  spoke  by  spoke  ; 
and,  when  he  is  shaping  a  spoke  or  a  felly,  he  is  thinking 
about  that,  and  not  of  the  entire  wheel.  The  highest 
motive  is  not  always  necessary  or  proper.  A  butcher 
is  doing  his  duty  when  he  kills  a  beeve  ;  but  it  would 
be  nonsense,  not  to  say  impiety,  to  ask  him  if  he  dealt 
the  blow  or  used  his  knife  for  the  glory  of  God.  A 
Christian  has  no  right  to  vulgarize  his  religion  by 
such  forced  interpretations  ;  he  has  no  right  to  put  a 
strained  significance  upon  or  make  a  strained  appli- 
cation of  a  passage  which  was  written  to  express  a 
great  principle,  —  too  great  to  be  expressed  by  any  one 
act  of  our  life,  but  by  the  life  taken  as  a  whole.  A 
boy  does  not  slide  down  hill  or  skate,  or  a  girl  play 
croquet  or  practise  calisthenics,  for  the  glory  of  God ; 
and  yet  these  sports  are  innocent  and  healthy.  Taken 
in  connection  with  the  entire  life,  the  physical  devel- 
opment and  formation  of  character,  they  are  in  per- 
fect accord  with  the  injunction  of  our  text ;  but  taken 
in  a  detached,  a  separate  sense,  they  fulfil  nothing  but 
pure  youthful  vivacity  and  physical  impulse. 

Our  idea  is,  then,  of  this  passage,  that  it  is  to  be 
taken  in  its  large,  general  sense.  It  has  no  appli- 
cation to  pudding  and  pies,  playing  chess  and  whist, 
and  the  thousand  and  one  accompaniments  of  physi- 
cal and  social  life.  It  is  intended  to  cover  the  main 
drift  and  tendency  of  a  life,  and  not  particular  acts, 
momentary  impulses,  and  transient  states  of  feeling. 
It  is  globular,  and  not  atomic.  It  is  vast  as  the  earth, 
and  not  minute  and  special  as  a  grain  of  sand. 

You  have  now  my  ideas  in  respect  to  this  passage 


256  LIVING   FOR  GOD'S  GLORY. 

touching  its  significance  and  limitations.  Under  our 
conception  of  it,  it  cannot  be  abused,  perverted,  or 
vulgarized.  It  points  directly  to  the  existence  in  the 
human  soul  of  one  central  and  all-including  motive, 
not  antagonistic  to,  but  in  perfect  harmony  with, 
countless  other  motives,  as  the  trunk  of  the  tree  is  in 
harmony  with  the  branches  and  the  numberless  out- 
lying leaves.  It  makes  fulfilment  possible,  and  hence 
a  duty.  It  exalts  and  ennobles  life,  without  vulgariz- 
ing by  false  applications  the  divine  rule  by  which  we 
are  to  live.  It  makes  what  was  painful  soothing  to 
the  anxious  conscience,  and  forbids  ignorance  and 
hypocrisy  to  appropriate  it  to  their  own  low  and  un- 
scriptural  uses. 

This,  then,  is  what  I  regard  as  the  true  scope  and 
significance  of  the  passage  ;  and  I  will  proceed  at  once 
to  the  application. 

And,  in  the  first  place,  it  is  an  exhortation  to  all 
human  creatures,  and  especially  to  all  professed  Chris- 
tians, to  give  in  all  their  doings  a  due  recognition  of 
God. 

To  start  with,  by  nature  man  is  his  own  god.  Self- 
love  rules.  It  is  his  own  interest  he  is  looking  after ; 
it  is  his  own  fame  and  honor  he  is  striving  to  estab- 
lish ;  it  is  his  own  gratification  that  he  seeks.  The 
mass  of  men  live  selfish  lives.  Seventeen  men  out 
of  every  twenty  that  you  meet  on  the  street  are  plan- 
ning and  working  for  self.  The  rights  of  others,  save 
as  their  own  are  included  therein,  the  good  of  their 
neighbors,  above  all,  the  "  glory  of  God,"  is  not  in  all 
their  thoughts.     This  is  man's  state  by  nature,  the 


LIVING   FOR  GOD'S  GLORY.  257 

demonstration  of  which  position  is  to  be  found  both 
in  the  Scriptures  and  in  our  own  consciousness.  But 
Christians  are  people  whose  nature  has  been  changed, 
renewed.  We  are  not  as  we  were.  We  stand,  not 
as  the  earth  stands  at  night,  when  the  heavens  are 
cold,  and  the  ground  damp,  and  every  beauty  is  hid- 
den in  gloom,  but  as  the  world  appears  in  the  morn- 
ing, when  the  air  is  genial,  and  the  ground  warm,  and 
all  the  loveliness  of  hill,' river,  and  plain,  is  brought 
out  by  the  light  of  the  risen  sun.  For  the  Lord  has 
shined  upon  us  out  of  his  glory,  and  the  otherwise 
dark  orbs  of  our  lives  are  luminous.  Still  we  are  not 
immaculate.  Even  the  finest  texture  can  receive  a 
stain.  We  are  as  those  who  walk  through  crowds, 
arrayed  in  white  and  with  flowing  robes.  We  are 
pushed  against,  and  soiled.  We  are  creatures  of  habit 
also.  As  tuneful  birds  will  catch  a  sweet  or  a  vicious 
note  from  hearing  it,  so  we  borrow  discord  from  dis- 
cord around  us.  Even  the  best  forces  of  our  nature 
lead  us  astray.  Economy,  unless  watched,  becomes 
sordidness  ;  ambition,  unscrupulousness  ;  pride,  arro- 
gance ;  self-esteem,  vanity.  From  all  these  and  count- 
less Other  causes,  we  are  operated .  upon  to  our  hurt. 
The  goal  is  lost  sight  of  in  the  dust  of  the  course  ; 
and,  owing  to  the  multitude  and  rush  of  the  runners, 
we  get  excited,  lose  self-control,  and  like  a  vicious  or 
frenzied  horse,  when  in  the  very  home-stretch,  bolt. 
This  text  has,  therefore,  to  us  all,  fellow-Christians,  a 
solemn  and  needed  application.  It  exhorts  us  to 
recognize  God  in  all  our  plans  and  purposes,  —  rec- 
ognize his  authority  over  us,  his  ownership  in   us, 


258  LIVING  FOR  GOD'S  GLORY. 

his  gracious  love  for  us.  I  think  a  vast  deal  of  this 
last  thought,  —  God's  love  for  us  as  a  restraining  and 
reforming  power  in  our  hearts.  Why,  what  can- 
not love  do  ?  By  the  power  of  it,  men  lost  to  all 
sense  of  manhood  have  been  reformed.  Its  hand  has 
touched  the  shoulders  of  thousands  when  they  stood 
poised  on  the  brink  of  precipices,  about  to  take  the 
fatal  leap ;  and  the  would-be  suicide  turned  back,  and 
bore  for  years  the  burden  of  life  without  murmuring. 
It  has  entered  the  room  of  raving  madness ;  spoken 
one  word ;  and,  at  the  sound  of  it,  madness  has  depart- 
ed, and  Reason  returned  with  tears  of  joy  to  her 
throne.  It  has  gone  in  search  of  the  lost,  found  them, 
and  led  them  back  to  duty  and  home.  Its  power, 
being  of  God,  is  omnipotent.  It  is  that  one  thing  to 
which  death  yields ;  and  the  grave,  hallowed  by  its 
presence,  becomes  a  bower,  where  spirits  come  down 
and  hold  communion  with  flesh,  relieving  the  gloom 
around  it  with  a  presence  bright  with  the  radiance 
of  the  skies.  And  if  there  is  a  soul  here  in  the 
divine  presence  at  this  moment,  a  worn,  jaded,  dis- 
couraged soul ;  a  single  man  who  has  lost  confidence 
in  his  fellow-men,  and  even  in  himself ;  or  a  woman 
over  whose  life,  as  over  a  summer's  landscape,  a  frost 
has  come,  and  bitter  winds  blown  and  shaken  all  her 
hopes  down  like  withered  leaves,  —  I  declare  to  all  such 
my  belief  that  God's  love  has  come  and  is  coming 
down  into  this  church  to  bless  them  to-day,  and  is 
here  and  now  seeking  to  enter  into  their  hearts  of 
wretchedness,  and  make  them  hearts  of  joy. 

Now,  my  people,  the  exhortation  of  this  text  to 


LIVING  FOR  GOD'S   GLORY.  259 

you  all  is,  Bring  out  more  prominently  to  your  minds, 
realize  more  fully  in  your  feelings,  the  existence  and 
supervision  of  God.  Let  this  thought  come  down 
upon  and  mingle  with  the  soil  of  your  lives  as  the  rain 
permeates  the  soil  of  the  earth.  Such  a  belief, 
heartily  received  into  the  soul,  makes  a  most  fruitful 
impression  on  a  man's  conduct.  A  thousand  dorman  t 
sensibilities,  like  long-sown  seeds,  unquickened  by 
reason  of  drought,  suddenly  become  germinant  at  its 
touch,  and  the  sterile  nature  is  clothed  with  heavenly 
verdure.  Put  this  recognition  of  God  as  a  pilot  at 
the  helm  of  your  life ;  let  it  steer  you  across  the  sea 
of  all  your  worldly  plans,  direct  you  in  all  your  pur- 
poses, —  and  your  soul  will  come  to  the  conclusion  of 
its  voyage  as  a  rich-freighted  ship,  blown  by  favoring 
winds,  comes  into  port  with  her  sails  all  lighted  up 
with  the  glory  of  a  summer's  sunset.  Even  trouble 
will  be  to  you,  in  your  relation  to  God,  what  night  is 
to  the  sky  above  }rourhead.  Its  shadows  are,  indeed, 
sombre  and  oppressive ;  but,  without  its  darkness, 
you  would  never  have  known  the  stars. 

My  second  remark  is,  that  the  passage  exhorts  us 
to  a  wise  gravity. 

I  fear  that  half  the  lives  lived  are  frivolous  lives. 
Not  a  few,  especially  among  the  female  portion  of  so- 
ciety, are  living  without  an  object.  Half  of  them  are 
educated  not  to  have  an  object ;  that  is,  they  are 
brought  up  in  such  a  manner  that  they  cannot  very 
well  have  any  object  in  life.  They  are  protected 
by  an  unwise  affection  from  both  the  necessity  and 
the  opportunity  of  ]abor,  —  that  postern-gate  through 


260  LIVING   FOR  GOD'S  GLORY. 

which  each  faculty  must  pass  to  reach  its  throne. 
They  are  surrounded  with  brain-softening  and  energy- 
sapping  leisure  :  their  life  is  one  sterile  desert  of  un- 
employed time.  I  cannot  expand  this  thought  to-day 
as  I  wish  I  might.  I  believe  that  I  have  the  pleasure 
of  speaking  weekly  to  an  audience,  a  large  majority 
of  whom  is  composed  of  workers  both  in  material  and 
moral  directions.  I  cherish  as  a  precious  thought 
the  belief  that  you  represent  a  very  high  average  of 
effort  and  usefulness.  Half  the  strength  of  my  min- 
istry would  go  out  of  me,  and  all  its  joy,  should  the 
suspicion  ever  enter  my  head  that  I  was  preaching  to 
a  cluster  of  drones.  A  man  works  better  in  company 
than  he  does  alone.  It  is  dreary  business  to  hoe  in  a 
ten-acre  lot  of  corn  without  a  comrade.  Toil  never 
so  hard,  you  eke  your  way  so  slowly  into  the  wide 
expanse  of  growing  weeds  !  It  is  a  cheering  thought 
that  fifty  other  men  are  preaching  around  me  in  the 
city  to-day.  We  seldom  meet ;  we  may  not  know 
each  other  by  face  :  but  I  know  that  they  are  hard  at 
work,  and  they  know  that  I  am  ;  and  so,  by  a  kind  of 
unconscious  co-operation,  we  uphold  each  other.  Did 
you  ever  think  that  the  mass  of  £he  church  are  to 
the  pulpit  what  the  tide  is  to  a  ship  ?  You  buoy  it 
up,  and  keep  it  afloat.  You  make  it  able  to  carry 
God's  freight  of  instruction  and  reproof,  of  warning 
and  appeal..  It  is  not  the  ships  alone  that  do  the  com- 
merce of,  and  build  up,  the  world  :  every  drop  of  water 
under  their  keels  contributes  a  share  to  the  glory  and 
wealth  of  a  nation's  marine.  And  so  every  praying 
soul,  every  sympathetic   heart,  every  friendly  face, 


LIVING  FOR  GOD'S   GLORY.  261 

every  trusty  hand  that  meets  warmly  the  seeking 
palm,  contributes  its  proportion,  and  adds  its  share,  to 
make  the  ministry  a  ministry  of  power. 

But  it  is  possible,  that,  in  such  a  throng  of  friends 
and  strangers,  there  may  be  some  living  without  a 
purpose,  —  living  lives  devoid  of  energy  and  object. 
If  such  a  one  is  here,  listen  to  me.  How  dare  you 
live  in  idleness  (you  call  it  leisure)  when  the  best 
voices  of  the  world  are  calling  for  help  ?  How  dare 
you  fritter  away  your  time  in  self-amusement  ?  How 
can  you  sit  and  play  with  tinted  shells  upon  the  beach, 
when  on  the  crest  of  every  wave  that  rolls  in  against 
the  rocks  appears  a  white  and  ghastly  face,  and  arms 
toss,  and,  mingled  with  the  roar  of  the  deadly  waves, 
a  thousand  voices  cry,  "  Help  us,  for  God's  sake !  or 
we  sink  "  ?  Is  this  the  time  to  dance  and  chat,  and 
plan  for  selfish  pleasure,  when  the  Spirit  of  God  is  call- 
ing upon  you  for  service  "  with  groanings  that  cannot 
be  uttered  "  ?  Cease  this  life  of  frivolity,  of  ease,  of 
selfish  pleasure,  which  you  have  been  living.  Cease 
to  be  a  floating  feather  that  has  no  object,  and  knows 
not  its  own  path.  Become  a  drop  of  rain,  at  least,  to 
some  herb  or  plant  that  is  dying  for  want  of  moisture 
beneath  you.  Help  some  one  ;  lift  some  one.  I  charge  \ 
you,  to-day,  to  put  some  action  for  man  and  God  into 
your  life,  or  you  shall  be  to  man  and  God  what  those 
feathers  are  to  the  eagle,  which,  too  dull  for  ornament, 
and  too  weak  for  power,  he  plucks  from  out  his  wings, 
and  casts  upon  the  gale,  while  he  soars  in  disdain  away. 

Now,  the  first  thing  for  one  to  do  who  would  live 
for  the  glory  of  God  is  to  live  without  sin.     He  who 


262  LIVING  FOR  GOD'S  GLORY. 

sins  cannot  glorify  God.  It  is  in  virtue  and  personal 
holiness  that  man  most  glorifies  his  Maker.  There  is 
an  objective  service,  by  doing  which  we  serve  God  ; 
but  there  is  a  subjective  work,  a  work  in  our  own  souls, 
which,  being  well  done,  exalts  him  even  more.  I  pray 
all  you  young  people  not  to  overlook  this.  Within 
yourselves  is  the  great  vineyard  you  are  to  till.  Woe 
to  the  Christian  who  neglects  himself !  Woe  to  the 
man  who  keeps  his  eyes  fastened  on  his  neighbor's 
lamp,  and  lets  his  own  go  out !  When  the  Bridegroom 
comes,  that  man  shall  not  go  in  with  him  to  the  feast. 
At  the  judgment,  when  all  heaven  shall  see  you,  and 
you  shall  see  yourself  as  never  before,  the  examina- 
tion will  be  into  the  condition  of  one  soul.  Whose 
soul  will  it  be  ?  —  your  wife's  ?  your  husband's  ?  your 
friend's  ?  your  pastor's  ?  No  :  it  will  be  concerning 
the  condition  of  your  own. 

My  friend,  I  would  not  abuse  the  privilege  of  my 
office  by  becoming  inquisitorial.  I  would  not  obtrude 
an  offensive  curiosity  upon  you.  I  seek  not  to  enter 
the  closet  in  which  hang  the  secrets  of  your  life.  My 
eye  is  not  enough  like  Christ's  to  look  upon  the  con- 
dition of  your  heart :  I  would  not  see  its  wealth  or 
poverty  if  I  could.  Search  the  closet  yourself.  While 
we  stand  with  averted  faces,  open  the  door,  and  enter 
in  where  you  can  see  in  the  condition  of  your  soul  the 
results  of  your  life  up  to  this  point  of  your  career,  — 
the  traces  which  the  years  have  left  upon  you.  How 
does  it  look  ?  what  is  its  condition  ?  Outwardly  you 
are  all  right ;  I  see  nothing  amiss  in  you  :  but  God 
looketh  not  at  the  outward  appearance,  but  at  the 


LIVING  FOR  GOD'S   GLORY.  263 

heart.  My  exhortation,  therefore,  is,  that  you  seek  to  • 
purify  that.  Be  so  good,  that  you  shall  never  be  able  J 
to  appear  as  good  as  you  are.  Do  not  deem  this  I 
charge  strange.  Holiness  can  never  perfectly  ex- 
press itself  in  the  flesh.  It  is  beyond  and  above  mor- 
tal expression.  It  needs  the  heaven,  it  needs  the 
spiritualized  form  and  feature,  it  needs  the  celestial 
sphere  of  duty  and  life,  it  needs  God's  presence,  it 
needs  the  employment  of  the  skies,  before  it  can  ever 
be  fully  seen.  Have  you  such  a  holiness  in  you, 
a  pent-up  holiness,  a  holiness  fettered  by  the  flesh,  a 
holiness  which,  like  a  caged  bird,  can  never  show  its 
power  of  wing,  never  express  its  full  capacity  of  song  ? 
There  is  one  other  application  given  to  this  passage 
by  certain  people  which  I  regard  as  unjust  and  un- 
wise. They  make  it  an  exhortation  to  solemnity,  j 
They  hurl  it  against  all  manner  of  light  and  healthy  j 
amusement.  They  thrust  it  as  a  gag  into  the  mouth 
of  mirthfulness  to  prevent  laughter.  There  are  peo- 
ple who  are  not  willing  to  let  men  and  women  remain 
as  God  made  them,  but  would  shave  down,  and  clip 
off,  and  make  them  all  over  again.  I  receive  a  let- 
ter almost  every  day,  proposing  to  take  me  in  hand, 
and  make  me  all  over  into  an  entirely  different  sort 
of  a  man.  I  dare  say  that  there  is  need  enough  of 
it ;  and  I  trust  that  time,  and  God's  transforming 
grace,  will  make  all  needed  changes.  But,  somehow 
or  another,  I  never  could  bring  my  mind  to  put  much 
confidence  in  these  social  and  moral  tinkers.  It 
makes  a  vast  difference  what  model  a  sculptor  has 
when  he  begins  to  chisel ;  and  if  this  class  of  people 


264  LIVING  FOR  GOD'S  GLORY. 

should  model  me  over,  and  make  me  like  unto  them- 
selves, I  should  be  "  of  all  men  the  most  miserable  "  ! 
Now,  this  passage,  although  appropriated  by  this  class 
of  people,  does  not  belong  to  them,  as  I  have  shown. 
It  enjoins  innocence  and  earnestness,  and  recognition 
of  God  in  our  lives  ;  but  it  does  not  interfere  with  the 
exercise  of  those  emotions  and  impulses  which  give 
dash  and  relish  to  our  daily  life.  Least  of  all  has 
one  the  right  to  put  a  harsh  and  arbitrary  application 
to  it  as  a  bar  to  social  and  domestic  enjoyment.  The 
question  all  turns  on  this  :  What  is  for  God's  glory  ? 
And  I  hold  that  the  innocent  exercise  of  every 
faculty  with  which  he  has  endowed  us  is  for  his 
glory ;  for  sure  is  it  that  he  would  never  have  be- 
stowed any  faculty  upon  us,  which,  being  exercised 
along  the  line  of  its  evident  adaptation,  would  not  be 
for  his  glory.  Now,  the  exercise  of  one  faculty  is  no 
more,  in  itself  considered,  for  the  glory  of  its  Maker, 
than  another.  Gravity  is  no  more  honorable  to  God 
than  mirthfulness.  There  are  more  exhortations  in 
the  Bible  to  praise  than  to  prayer.  Yet  you  find 
people  constantly  talking  and  acting  on  the  assump- 
tion that  laughter  is  not  religious,  —  not  fit  for  God's 
presence ;  and  that,  if  one  cannot  contain  his  feel- 
ings, if  his  gratitude  and  happiness  must  find  ex- 
pression, he  must  let  them  out,  not  in  a  gush  of 
song  and  shout,  in  which  the  whole  body  shall  sym- 
pathize as  did  Miriam's  with  her  companions  when 
she  danced  her  dance  of  joy  before  the  Lord  for  their 
deliverance,  but  in  a  kind  of  religious  wail.  I  ob- 
ject on  the  most  serious  grounds  to  all  such  views. 


LIVING  FOR  GOD'S  GLORY.  265 

They  mislead  people  as  to  what  is  the  nature  and 
result  of  Christian  life.  God  does  not  drive  ns  into 
his  vineyard  nor  keep  us  there  by  bolt  and  shackle 
and  whip.  I  am  not  forced  to  serve  Christ  any  more 
than  I  was  driven  to  love  him.  I  do  it  of  my  own 
free  will,  and  therefore  cheerfully.  The  average  state 
of  a  Christian  soul  should  be  a  happy  one.  Chris- 
tians should  sing  while  they  work,  as  birds  while 
building  their  nests  and  gathering  food  for  their 
young.  I  remember  hearing  a  story  of  a  ferryman 
who  agreed  to  take  a  lovely  girl,  who  was  flying  from 
a  cruel  father,  over  the  river ;  and,  before  starting,  he 
turned  to  her  lover,  and  said,  "  As  long  as  you  hear 
me  singing,  you  may  know  we  are  safe."  Well,  they 
started.  Darkness  and  the  storm  closed  in  upon 
them;  but  ever  and  anon,  through  the  roar  of  the 
gale  and  the  surge  of  the  billow,  came  to  the  anx- 
ious listener,  ringing  loud  and  clear,  the  notes  of  the 
boatman's  song.  This  is  precisely  the  case  with  those 
who  are  seeking  escape  from  Satan.  Amid  no  mat- 
ter what  perils,  I  never  despair  of  a  soul ;  for  while, 
over  the  roar  of  a  fiercer  storm  and  the  surge  of 
wilder  billows,  I  can  hear  it  singing  as  it  toils  at  the 
oar,  I  feel  it  is  safe.  Many  of  you  will  remember 
that  passage  in  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  where  a 
disciple  is  represented  as  going  down  into  a  dark 
valley ;  and,  as  he  is  creeping  along,  he  begins  to  shud- 
der and  be  afraid:  but  just  as  he  is  about  to  give  up, 
and  turn  back  in  despair,  he  hears  a  strong,  clear  voice 
ahead  of  him,  chanting,  "  Though  I  walk  through 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no 
12 


266  LIVING  FOR  GOD'S   GLORY. 

evil,"  and  he  takes  courage,  and  goes  on.  Brave 
song,  that !  And  so,  perhaps,  my  good  brother  or  sis- 
ter in  Christ,  there  may  be  some  poor  soul  back  of 
you  creeping  along  with  fear  and  trembling  amid  the 
experience  of  life,  poor,  timid,  and  heart-broken. 
You  cannot  go  back  and  creep  with  him  ;  you  can- 
not grope  amid  the  darkness  of  that  despair  with 
him :  but  you  can  do  one  thing,  —  you  can  lift  up 
your  voice,  and  sing  some  song  of  holy  confidence, 
some  sublime  hymn  of  trust ;  and  God  shall  float  the 
sounds  back  to  that  halting  soul,  and  he  shall  be 
cheered  and  strengthened  and  saved  by  your  joy. 

And  now,  friends,  I  have  told  you,  in  brief,  how  this 
passage  looks  to  me  ;  what  its  limitations  are  on  the 
one  hand,  and  what  its  scope  is  on  the  other.  I  have 
only  opened  the  door,  and  brought  your  feet  to  the 
threshold.  Move  along  into  the  vestibule ;  thence 
advance  in  thought  until  you  stand  beneath  the  vast 
and  uplifted  dome  that  roofs  this  sublime  injunction. 
Uncover  your  heads  as  you  stand  beneath  it,  your- 
selves dwarfed  by  its  colossal  proportions.  Hear  the 
swell  and  roll  of  the  anthem  poured  forth  by  unseen 
choirs;  breathe  the  air  whose  every  particle  is  fra- 
grant with  the  incense  of  praise  unto  the  Lord,  until 
you  catch  the  inspiration  of  those  who  wait  and  serve 
ceaselessly  and  in  joy  before  God,  and  you  say,  in  a 
voice  such  as  a  man  uses,  when,  in  the  hush  of  even- 
ing, he  kneels  in  prayer  at  the  base  of  mountains, 
"  Grant,  O  Thou  that  strengthened  man  !  that  what- 
soever I  do,  whether  I  eat  or  drink,  I  may  do  all  for 
thy  glory.    Grant  this,  O  Lord  !  and  I  ask  no  more." 


SABBATH  MORNING,  JUNE  11,  1871. 


SERMON. 


SUBJECT. -MINISTERIAL  VACATIONS:   THEIR  NECESSITY  AND  VALUE. 


"Let  him  that  is  taught  in  the  Word  communicate  unto  htm  that 

TEACHETH  IN  ALL  GOOD  THINGS."— Gal.  vi.  6. 


IN  many  passages  of  Scripture,  allusion  is  made 
to  the  duty  of  the  churches  to  keep  in  mind  the 
happiness  and  well-being  of  those  whom  God,  in  the 
ways  of  his  providence,  has  appointed  as  their  spiritu- 
al teachers.  The  duty  to  watch  over  and  care  for  each 
other  is  reciprocal  between  a  pastor  and  his  people. 
He  must  spend  and  be  spent  for  them ;  and  they  are 
to  make  all  needed  contributions  to  him.  I  wish,  in 
this  discourse,  —  the  last  I  shall  make  to  you  before 
I  leave  on  my  vacation,  —  to  speak  to  you,  and 
through  you  to  the  public  at  large,  upon  a  subject 
which  I  regard  of  the  utmost  importance,  because  if 
relates  to  the  happiness  and  usefulness  of  many  ear- 
nest and  devoted  men  now  laboring  with  the  churche? 
in  the  ministry  of  Christ.  The  topic  I  have  selected 
under  which  to  group  certain  suggestions,  is,  "  Minis- 
terial vacations :  their  necessity  and  value."  If,  by 
speaking,  I  shall,  to  any  considerable  extent,  succeed 
in  calling  the  attention  of  the  churches  to  the  subject, 

267 


268  MINISTERIAL  VACATIONS: 

if  I  shall  cause  them  to  better  understand  and  appre- 
ciate the  labors  and  necessities  of  their  respective 
pastors,  I  shall  have  accomplished  my  object,  and  feel 
amply  rewarded. 

I  speak  without  embarrassment  upon  this  otherwise 
delicate  subject,  because,  in  the  first  place,  I  present 
the  claims  of  men,  who,  as  a  class,  are  confessedly  la- 
borious in  their  habits.  The  clergy  of  the  nation  can 
challenge  comparison  with  any  other  equal  number 
of  men  touching  close  application  to  the  duties  of 
their  calling.  They  are  hard  workers.  I  do  not 
hesitate  to  express  the  conviction,  that  no  other 
men,  either  in  business  or  professional  life,  work,  on 
the  average,  so  many  consecutive  hours  in  a  day, 
as  do  those  who  fill  the  American  pulpits.  Certain 
it  is  that  no  other  do  any  such  amount  of  night- 
"work  as  clergymen.  The  season  divinely  appointed 
and  peculiarly  adapted  for  recreation  and  rest  is 
the  one  which  the  circumstances  of  the  minister's 
life  force  him  to  devote  to  the  severest  toil.  The 
day  is  often  one  of  distraction,  —  full  of  changing  du- 
ties and  cares,  which  hurry  him  from  one  appointment 
to  another,  —  so  that  composition  is  impossible.  He 
turns  to  the  night-season  as  his  last  resort.  When 
his  parishioners  sleep,  they  cannot,  at  least,  interrupt 
his  toil.  When,  by  every  law  of  Nature,  therefore,  he 
should  be  in  his  bed,  he  can  be  found  at  his  study -table. 
When  his  brain  should  be  gathering  strength  in  repose, 
it  is  being  inflamed  with  intense  activity.  Night  after 
night,  for  weeks  together,  have  I  sat,  and  worked  at 
tiie  composition  of  my  sermons,  from  eight  in   the 


THEIR  NECESSITY   AND  VALUE.  269 

evening  until  two  o'clock  in  the  morning :  indeed,  for 
months  at  a  time  since  I  came  to  this  city,  this  has 
been  the  rule  of  my  life.  Nor  is  this  habit  so  rare 
among  clergymen  as  you  might  think.  Scores  and 
scores  of  men  in  the  ministry  are  working  nearly  if 
not  equally  as  hard.  Their  sleep  is  not  regulated  by 
the  necessities  of  nature,  but  according  to  the  de- 
mands of  professional  duty.  They  feel  that  it  is 
wrong,  abstractly  considered;  they  know  that  it 
means  premature  aging,  and  perhaps  death.  But 
what  can  they  do  ?  They  are  in  a  current  that  runs 
so  swiftly,  that  they  dare  not  even  turn  the  prow  of 
the  boat  toward  the  shore.  They  must  keep  it  in 
direct  line,  and  not  miss  a  stroke.  I  feel,  therefore, 
as  I  said,  no  embarrassment  in  presenting  the  claims 
of  these  men  to  the  courtesy  of  the  churches,  be- 
cause, in  the  first  place,  they  are  industrious  men. 
They  are  hard  workers  and  willing  workers.  They 
are  not  shirks,  nor  idlers.  Their  works  speak  for 
them.  Look  at  what  they  produce !  Behold  what 
they  accomplish  !  Their  voice  and  presence  are  every- 
where. Observe  their  faces.  Drones  do  not  have 
such  a  look.  Anxieties,  cares,  perplexities,  disappoint- 
ments, a  sleepless  activity  of  mind,  —  these  have 
wrought  their  impression  upon  the  faces  of  the  men 
of  whom  I  speak,  and  made  the  lines  long,  and  hewn 
them  deep.  Standing  with  such  an  array  of  faces 
back  of  me,  —  faces  of  men  whose  joy  it  has  been  to 
bear  the  burdens  of  others  as  well  as  their  own; 
whose  joy  it  has  been  to  spend  and  be  spent  for  Him 
whose  self-sacrifice  for  man  has  been  the  cloud  and 


270  MINISTERIAL  VACATIONS: 

pillar  of  fire  to  their  lives ;  whose  joy  it  is,  whether 
amid  courtesy  and  appreciation,  or  rudeness  and  neg- 
lect, to  give  themselves  for  others'  good,  —  standing 
thus,  I  say,  I  am  not  ashamed  to  present  their  claims. 
Nor,  in  the  second  place,  am  I  ashamed,  because  I 
speak  not  of  these  alone,  but  for  the  welfare  of  the 
churches  also.  In  our  church  polity,  the  minister  is, 
and  must  ever  be,  the  prominent  source  of  influence. 
The  pulpit  is  with  us  the  prime  factor  of  power  and 
usefulness.  The  sermon  is  the  favorite  agency  in  our 
method  of  evangelization.  If  the  pulpit  is  weak,  the 
church  languishes,  distractions  occur,  and  religion  is 
crippled  in  every  phase  of  its  manifestation.  It  may 
be  that  the  system  is  in  part  wrong;  it  may  be 
that  instruction  pushes  devotion  too  much  aside ; 
that  our  congregations  should  be,  beyond  what  they 
are  now,  worshippers  as  truly  as  students.  Be  this  as 
it  may,  still  the  fact  remains  (and  I  think  it  would 
remain  even  if  the  change  that  we  have  hinted  at 
should  be  made),  that  the  pulpit  is  to-day  the  right 
arm  of  our  power.  Through  it,  our  scholarship  finds 
its  most  popular  and  efficient  expression.  Through 
it,  applications  of  the  Scripture  are  enforced,  and 
the  proclamation  of  the  gospel  most  efficiently 
made.  This  is  undeniable.  But  what,  pray,  is  the 
pulpit  ?  and  whence  comes  its  power  ?  The  interroga- 
tion answers  itself.  There  is  no  power  nor  grace  nor 
energy  in  the  pulpit  save  as  it  exists  in  and  is  ex- 
pressed by  the  individual  members  of  the  ministry. 
The  minister  who  fills  it  is  the  pulpit.  It  is  strong 
or  weak  according   as   he   is   strong   or  weak.     Its 


THEIR  NECESSITY   AND  VALUE.  271 

strength  is  individual,  its  weakness  individual.  Its 
potency  is  exactly  graduated  by  the  physical,  men- 
tal, and  spiritual  condition  of  the  man  who  for  the 
time  fills  it.  Whatever  is  adapted  to  make  me 
strong  in  my  bodily  powers,  fresh  and  active  in  mind, 
hopeful  and  aspiring  of  soul,  is  the  very  thing  adapted 
to  strengthen  and  bless  you.  My  physical  and  men- 
tal condition,  even  my  moods,  affect  you.  You  gain 
or  lose  by  what  is  gain  or  loss  to  me.  To  borrow  a 
couplet  from  England's  laureate,  — 

"  We  rise  or  fall  together, 


The  connection  between  a  pastor  and  his  people  is 
a  close  and  vital  one,  —  even  that  of  essence  with  es- 
sence, and  mind  with  mind.  The  heaven  of  thought 
above  us  is  one  ;  and  whatever  darkens  me  casts  a 
shadow  upon  you.  This  is  the  universal  law  dominant 
over  all  the  churches.  I  seek  to  hasten  the  day  when 
it  shall  be  recognized  ;  when  the  members  of  a  church 
shall  feel  toward  their  pastor  as  children  old  enough 
to  apprehend  relations  feel  toward  the  head  of  the 
family.  His  health,  his  happiness,  his  prosperity,  are 
precious  to  them,  not  alone  because  they  love  him, 
but  because  their  condition  is  affected  by  his.  They 
are  rich  when  he  is  rich ;  they  are  poor  when  he  is 
poor.  This,  then,  is  my  proposition,  that  whatever  is 
calculated  to  make  the  minister  of  a  church  healthier 
in  body,  fresher  in  mind,  hopeful  and  unvexed  in 
spirit,  is,  to  the  same  extent,  calculated  to  better  the 
church  of  which  he  is  the  pastor. 


272  MINISTEKIAL  VACATIONS: 

It  is,  therefore,  not  alone  the  claims  of  the  clergy, 
personally  considered,  that  I  present  to-day,  when  I 
urge  the  churches  to  allow  their  several  pastors  time 
to  rest,  and  recruit  their  overtaxed  and  nearly  ex- 
hausted physical  and  mental  powers,  but  the  claims 
of  the  churches  also,  and,  considered  in  its  largest 
sense,  the  claims  of  religion  itself. 

So  much  by  way  of  explanation.  I  will  proceed 
now  to  point  out  briefly  whence  arises  the  need  of  an 
annual  vacation  to  a  pastor.  Let  us  search  for  the 
causes  which  account  for  and  gauge  the  lassitude  and 
exhaustion  which  all  clergymen  in  active  service  at 
times  feel. 

The  first  cause  I  would  mention  is  intense  and  long- 
continued  mental  effort. 

Above  all  other  public  speakers,  the  preacher  must 
think  profoundly  and  without  intermission.  The 
themes  of  which  he  treats  are  sublime ;  and  their 
proper  treatment  demands  great  altitude  of  mind. 
His  subjects  are  often  extremely  intricate,  and  call 
for  great  care  in  their  analysis.  Wide  reading,  and 
laborious  comparison  of  many  authors,  he  must  not 
neglect.  His  work  is  largely  that  of  creation  of 
thought, — the  most  exhaustive  of  all  mental  processes. 
Other  things  being  equal,  the  man  who  studies  most 
preaches  best.  Granite,  and  chiselled  granite  at  that, 
is  what  men  bring  together  when  they  would  build  a 
palace.  Now,  every  sermon  should  be  a  palace,  con- 
structed with  sentences  like  polished  stones,  massive 
and  fair  to  look  upon,  having  in  it  somewhere  a  throne 


THEIR  NECESSITY   AND  VALUE.  273 

of  amethystine  thought  on  which  Christ  is  seated  like 
a  great  king.  Such  sermons  are  not  constructed  in  a 
day.  The  man  who  writes  such  a  sermon  must  put 
his  best  life  into  it.  Every  faculty  of  his  mind  must 
be  summoned  and  taxed.  Memory,  judgment,  per- 
ception, imagination,  the  emotions,  —  all  are  laid  un- 
der tribute.  In  this  business,  work  tells.  Genius  alone 
never  writes  such  discourses.  Beaten  oil  is  alone  fit 
for  the  sanctuary.  What  is  more  wretched  than  to 
see  a  preacher  make  a  verbal  catapult  of  himself,  and 
pelt  his  audience  with  words !  When  you  hear  a  man 
yelling  very  loudly  in  his  pulpit,  you  may  know  that 
he  has  thought  very  little  in  his  study.  A  violent, 
red-in-the-face,  perspiring  kind  of  oratory  has  not  the 
first  element  of  appropriateness  to  it  in  the  sanctu- 
ary. Such  "  gifted  "  preachers  are,  for  the  most  part, 
gifted  only  as  to  their  lungs.  If  I  urge  that  these 
have  a  vacation,  it  is  solely  out  of  pity  for  their  con- 
gregations. What  a  blessing  it  must  be  for  a  people 
to  be  delivered  from  such  a  man  a  whole  month  in 
the  year  !  What  a  chance  it  would  give  the  "  still 
small  voice,"  which  for  eleven  months  had  been 
drowned  amid  the  crash  of  exploding  vocabularies,  to 
be  heard  !  Why,  an  intelligent  conversion  might  oc- 
cur during  the  four  weeks  of  such  a  man's  absence ! 

Not  only  is  it  hard,  brain-tasking  work  to  prepare 
an  instructive  and  soul-quickening  sermon,  but  it  is 
a  task  that  is  never  ended.  There  is  no  opportunity 
for  the  overworked  brain  to  rest.  No  sooner  is  one  ser- 
mon delivered  than  another  must  be  begun.  Even  the 
sabbath,  which  brings  to  the  mind  of  the  lawyer  and 


274  MINISTERIAL  VACATIONS: 

the  business-man  a  period  of  repose,  only  puts  an  ad- 
ditional burden  upon  the  clergyman.  The  day  which 
God  ordained  as  a  day  of  rest  to  all  his  creatures  on 
the  earth,  —  the  wisdom  of  the  appointment  being  seen 
even  in  the  necessities  of  the  lowest  parts  of  our  or- 
ganization^ —  is,  by  the  very  nature  of  his  office,  a  day 
of  toil,  and  often  of  worry,  to  the  minister.  Thus 
the  sabbaths  repeat  themselves  ;  thus  are  his  appoint- 
ments inexorably  multiplied  in  monotonous  succes- 
sion, —  the  tension  upon  his  nervous  system  forever 
kept  taut,  and  his  work  never  done.  His  brain,  like 
another  Sisyphus,  labors  ceaselessly  to  heave  up  a 
stone,  which  is  as  ceaselessly  rolling  down  upon  it,  — 
an  ever-beginning,  never-ending  toil.  No  wonder 
that  such  work  kills  men ;  no  wonder  that  the  brain 
at  last  softens,  and  reason,  like  an  overstrained  cord, 
snaps.  No  wonder  that  pliancy  departs  from  a  bow 
that  is  never  unstrung.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that 
lassitude  and  sluggishness  of  mind  in  such  cases  are* 
salvation  to  the  mind.  Like  the  stupor  which  falls 
upon  a  beaten  slave,  making  him  insensible  to  the 
lash  when  agony  longer  felt  would  bring  madness  or 
death,  it  is  the  last  and  land  refuge  which  Nature  has 
made  that  her  noblest  and  best-loved  child  may  not 
perish.  When  sermons  grow  dull ;  when  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  preacher  halts  in  its  flights,  and  its  crea- 
tions no  longer  shoot  up  like  morning  birds  out  of 
the  mist  into  the  clear  light ;  when  reason  falters,  and 
the  argument  is  evidently  feeble ;  when  the  applica- 
tion lacks  force,  the  suggestions  pungency,  and  the 
exhortation  is  only  like  the  sound  of  wind  in  the  air, 


THEIR  NECESSITY  AND  VALUE.  275 

that  sways  nothing,  and  shows  no  results,  —  know 
then,  O  ye  listeners  in  the  pews  !  that  your  minister  is 
overworked  ;  that  his  powers  are  exhausted,  and  im- 
peratively need  repose.  Bid  him  then  stop  work. 
Treat  him,  at  least,  in  the  same  spirit  of  love  (which 
is  that  of  economy  also)  that  marks  the  conduct  of 
the  owner  toward  a  favorite  horse  when  the  noble 
animal  begins  to  show  signs  of  overwork.  Forbid 
that  a  harness  be  put  on  him,  and  let  him  rest. 

It  is  just  at  such  a  point  in  his  experience  that  fur- 
ther labor  tells  the  most  severely  upon  a  minister. 
No  one  knows  better  when  a  sermon  comes  below 
the  average  than  a  preacher  ;  no  one  feels  it  so  poign- 
antly. Oh  the  mortification  of  delivering  a  poor 
sermon  before  an  intelligent  audience  !  Who  shall 
describe  it  ?  To  come  to  your  pulpit  consciously  un- 
prepared ;  to  feel,  that,  intellectually,  you  are  going 
to  your  disgrace ;  to  feel  that  friends  will  be  disap- 
pointed ;  that  enemies  will  find  in  your  weakness  the 
fulfilment  of  their  malicious  but  iterated  predictions  ; 
that  your  usefulness  will  be  impaired,  and  the  sub- 
limity of  religion  itself  unmanifested,  —  this,  friends, 
to  a  capable  and  sensitive  man,  is  torture.  Such  an 
experience  during  the  day  brings  a  sleepless  night. 
To  memory  it  is  as  a  sting  that  has  poison  in  it: 
it  rankles;  it  leads  to  ministerial  dejection  and 
moodiness;  it  sours  the  temper,  and  introduces,  at 
last,  a  fatal  self-distrust  into  the  mind.  It  is  simple 
and  downright  cruelty  to  make  a  man  preach  when 
to  preach  means  mortification  and  disgrace.  The 
man  is  a  brute  who  will  scar  with  his  spur  the  flank 


276  MINISTERIAL   VACATIONS: 

of  a  blooded  horse  that  has  carried  him  with  a  mag- 
nificent stride  for  forty-five  miles,  unless  the  emer- 
gency is  one  of  life  and  death ;  and  I  say  (and  I 
wish  I  could  say  it  in  every  church  in  the  land),  —  I  say 
that  it  is  likewise  brutal  for  a  congregation  to  com- 
pel an  active-minded  and  willing  servant  of  Christ  to 
preach  fifty-two  sermons  in  a  year,  when  at  the 
forty-fifth  he  is  evidently  jaded  and  worn.  There  is 
a  right  and  a  wrong  to  this  matter.  It  is  a  question 
of  conscience  as  truly  as  of  expediency.  It  is  not  a 
question  of  shrewd  bargaining,  but  of  mutual  benefit. 
There  is  another  source  of  exhaustion  which  the 
pastor  of  a  church  must  contend  against,  and  which 
is  liable  to  be  overlooked  or  misunderstood  by  the 
majority  of  people,  because  not  experienced  by  them. 
I  refer  to  that  tax  which  the  circumstances  of  his  life 
and  surroundings  levy  upon  his  emotional  nature. 
God  has  made  the  human  heart  extremely  sensitive. 
It  responds  readily  to  exhibitions  of  suffering  and  dis- 
tress. Nothing  but  gross  barbarism  releases  men 
from  the  conditions  of  sympathy.  Even  nature, 
when  not  utterly  brutalized,  weeps  with  those  that 
weep,  and  laughs  with  those  that  laugh.  Men  thus 
become  connected.  The  isolation  of  selfishness,  of 
barbarism,  is  broken  into  ;  and  they  humanely  mingle 
in  loving,  sympathetic  companionship.  This  beauti- 
ful characteristic  religion  fosters.  Grace  quickens 
the  generous  and  noble  elements  of  our  natures,  un- 
til, in  the  best  expression  of  our  lives,  we  have  and 
share  all  things  in  common.  Into  this  sensitiveness, 
this  state  of  hrflnane  impulse,  this  life  of  love  and 


THEIR  NECESSITY  AND  VALUE.  277 

sympathy,  the  clergyman,  by  his  very  office  and  mis- 
sion, is  educated.  The  griefs  of  others  become,  in 
their  effect  upon  him,  his  own.  Their  burdens  and 
trials,  their  perplexities  and  disappointments,  their 
dejections  and  sorrows,  affect  him  deeply.  He  carries 
them  all  around  with  him  in  his  thoughts:  he  re- 
joices that  he  can  do  it.  But,  nevertheless,  the 
"  care  of  all  the  church,"  added  to  his  own  personal 
and  domestic  cares,  weigh  him  down  grievously. 
They  worry  and  distract  his  mind;  they  take  the 
buoyancy  out  of  him ;.  they  exhaust  him  as  excessive 
weeping  does  the  mourner.  I  realize  how  imperfectly 
I  am  expressing  this  ;  for  the  ten  months  in  which  I 
have  stood  steadily  in  this  pulpit,  with  the  exception 
of  a  single  sabbath,  in  connection  with  my  other 
cares,  have  exhausted  me,  and  my  mind  works  slug- 
gishly. The  memory  reaches  out  too  slowly  to  cap- 
ture and  retain  the  fugitive  conception:  but  my 
brethren  in  the  ministry,  at  least,  will  know  what  I 
mean ;  and  their  hearts  will  cry  out,  "It  is  all  true  ! 
Beyond  my  brain-labor  as  a  source  of  exhaustion  to 
me  has  been  my  heart-labor.  Emotionally  I  am  even 
more  exhausted  than  I  am  mentally.  The  burdens 
that  my  people  cannot  see  are  even  heavier  than  those 
that  they  behold." 

My  friends,  God  grants  unto  every  body  and  brain 
a  certain  amount  of  power.  It  is  a  definite  quantity 
touching  its  expansion.  Man  can,  in  his  best  estate, 
accomplish  only  so  much.  On  the  other  hand,  it  can  be 
diminished  down  through  all  the  grades  of  exhaustion. 
This,  in  the  ministry  as  truly  as  in  other  professions 


278  MINISTERIAL  VACATIONS: 

in  our  country,  is  to-day  being  done,  and  to  a  fearful 
extent.  The  ministry,  as  a  class,  are  overworked  and 
underfed.  They  are  ill  supplied  with  the  means  and 
appliances  which  they  need  in  order  to  reach  their 
highest  usefulness  for  God  and  man.  If  the  pulpit, 
as  magazine- writers  claim,  is  weak,  the  causes  of  that 
weakness  can  be  easily  ascertained.  The  flame  is 
larger  than  the  stream ;  the  watershed  of  supply  is 
scant,  and  the  showers  infrequent.  Many  of  our 
churches  are  treating  the  ministry  in  the  spirit  of 
shrewd  bargaining.  The  question  before  the  com- 
mittee is,  "  How  little  can  we  give,  and  how  much  can 
we  get  ?  "  Strip  it  of  all  religious  forms  and  pious 
cant,  and  that  is  just  what  you  have  left.  Instead  of 
voting  a  vacation  to  the  pastor  gladly,  regarding  it 
as  a  positive  gain  to  them,  they  discuss  it  meanly,  and 
vote  it  niggardly,  as  if  they  were  voting  a  deprivation, 
and  not  a  benefit,  to  themselves.  I  wish  that  the  pas- 
tors over  such  congregations  —  and  their  name  is 
Legion  —  would  combine,  and  make  a  grand  ministerial 
"strike,"  each  of  them  saying,  "  Give  me  a  chance 
to  recruit  my  strength  expended  in  your  service,  or 
else  get  you  another  man  for  your  pastor."  I  would 
like  to  see  a  church,  with  such  an  advertisement  of 
stupidity  and  meanness  tacked  to  its  name,  go  into 
the  work  of  "  candidating."  It  would  have  to  "  can- 
didate "  through  three  generations  before  it  found  a 
pastor,  unless  it  discovered  somewhere  a  man  as  mean 
as  itself ! 

My  friends,  you  have  been  trying  for  twenty  years 
to  run  your  pulpits  on  nervous  force   alone,  unsup- 


THEIR   NECESSITY   AND   VALUE.  279 

ported  and  unsustained  by  muscular  power.  The 
experiment  is  a  failure.  The  number  of  dyspeptic, 
of  consumptive,  of  broken-down  pastors,  of  men 
obliged  to  retire  from  active  ministerial  labor  at  an 
age  when  they  should  be  in  their  most  glorious  prime, 
proves  this.  This  has  been  brought  about  by  over- 
work, and  also  by  a  class  of  miserable  "  traditions  " 
which  have  put  a  premium  on  narrow-chested  and 
shrivelled-skinned  men.  In  many  country  parishes 
of  New  England  ten  years  ago,  "  consumption  "  and 
"  spirituality  "  were  synonymous  terms.  If  the  minis- 
ter was  blessed  with  an  unnatural  paleness  of  counte- 
nance, an  interesting  stoop  in  the  shoulders,  and  a 
suggestive  cough,  he  was  regarded  as  a  close  student ; 
"  A  man  who  works  very  hard  at  his  sermons  ;  one  of 
the  ripest  scholars  of  the  country,  sir,  I  assure  you  ;  " 
and  a  dozen  colleges,  as  unknown  to  the  great  world 
of  influence  as  himself,  contended  for  the  honor  of 
making  him  a  doctor  of  divinity.  Our  theology  has 
been  affected  by  this  state  of  things.  Views  of  God 
are  notoriously  influenced  by  the  state  of  the  health. 
A  dyspeptic  sermon  is  as  easily  detected  as  a  heavy 
horse.  Our  thoughts,  our  conceptions,  our  imagina- 
tions, are  largely  shaped  and  colored  by  our  physical 
conditions.  A  sick  man  sees  God  through  sickly 
conditions  of  mind ;  a  starving  man,  through  fantas- 
tic visions ;  a  man  depressed  in  spirits,  as  a  person 
with  dim  sight  sees  a  star,  shorn  of  its  beams.  No 
correct  theology  could  ever  come,  out  of  convents. 
The  Bible,  from  beginning  to  end,  is  the  work  of  out- 
door- men.     Moses,  from  the  time  when  his  parents 


280  MINISTERIAL  VACATION'S: 

put  him  on  the  waters  in  the  wicker-boat  to  the  time 
when  he  passed  from  the  crest  of  a  mountain  into 
heaven,  was  a  child  of  Nature.  Joshua,  David,  the 
twelve  disciples,  Christ  himself,  all  were  outdoor  men. 
Adam  lived  principally  in  the  country;  and  John 
saw  heaven  in  vision  while  camping  out  on  the  Isle 
of  Patmos.  God  never  chose  a  diseased  organization 
to  be  a  channel  of  communication  with  the  race. 
Those  who  were  to  be  his  interpreters  to  mankind 
have  always  been  stout,  healthy  men ;  men  of  toil ; 
men  who  lived  simply,  in  accordance  with  the  great 
law  of  Nature.  The  reason  is  not  hidden  from  us. 
As  the  lenses  of  a  telescope  must  be  smooth,  free  from 
irregularities,  properly  shaped,  and  undimmed  by 
moisture,  that  it  may  yield  a  true  view  of  star  and 
sun ;  so  the  mind  that  would  truly  reflect  God  must 
be  in  the  highest  possible  condition.  A  great  many 
men  have  thought  they  saw  God,  when,  in  fact,  they 
saw  nothing  but  the  fancies  of  a  diseased  organiza- 
tion deified. 

There  are  scores  of  men  in  the  pulpits  of  New  Eng- 
land personally  known  to  me,  and  hundreds  of  oth- 
ers unknown  to  me,  upon  the  continuance,  I  will  uot 
say  of  whose  life,  but  upon  the  continuance  of  whose 
health,  vast  interests  depend.  I  pray  you  to  note  that 
it  is  not  the  presence  of  a  desire  to  be  useful,  but  of 
an  ability  to  give  that  desire  practical  expression, 
which  makes  these  men  useful  to  God  and  man. 
Never  was  there  a  time  when  the  great  Captain  need- 
ed so  many  soldiers  at  the  front,  and  so  few  in  the 
hospital,  as  now.     Never  was  there  a  time  when  his 


THEIR  NECESSITY  AND  VALUE.  281 

followers  should  so  closely  attend  to  the  economy  of  i 
moral  forces  as  to-day.  The  churches  cannot  afford 
to  lose  their  pastors  at  fifty-six :  they  cannot  afford  l 
to  have  them  lose  half  their  powers  at  forty-five. 
There  is  a  vast  amount  of  work  in  these  vineyards 
that  young  men  can  never  do.  Youth  has  its  ener- 
gies, it  facilities  of  expression,  its  efficient  enthusi- 
asms ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  a  wisdom,  a 
sagacity,  a  consecration,  an  influence,  which  can  come 
only  with  years.  A  ministry  composed  over-largely 
of  young  men,  must,  in  the  very  nature  of  things,  lack 
certain  needed  elements  of  power  required  by  the 
Master.  Every  soldier  of  Christ  should  grow  gray 
in  the  blessed  service,  and  die  at  last  on  the  picket- 
line.  I  know  what  it  is  to  stand  by  a  coffin  in  which 
lay  half  the  intellectual  force  of  a  neighborhood,  cut 
off  forever  in  premature  death ;  I  know  what  it  is 
to  bury  a  man  around  whom  the  interests  of  a  church 
and  community  were  twined  as  vines  around  a  trellis  ; 
and,  when  the  man  went  down,  he  was  literally  buried 
beneath  the  wreck  and  ruins  of  what  in  life  he  had 
loved  and  fostered.  Above  such  graves,  and  beside 
such  coffins,  I  have  stood  with  a  weight  upon  my 
spirits  that  required  my  utmost  fortitude  to  sustain. 
And  I  believe  that  many  pastors  in  this  and  other 
cities,  and  all  up  and  down  through  the  country,  are 
being  hurried,  by  the  dire  conditions  of  their  pastoral 
service,  to  just  such  coffins  and  just  such  graves. 

If  you  say,  "  Why  do  they  overwork  ?  "  I  respond, 
They  cannot  do  otherwise.  This  is  the  way  it  works. 
A  good  friend,  perhaps  a  dozen  of  you,  having  con- 


282  MINISTEKIAL  VACATIONS: 

stituted  yourselves  a  committee  of  visitation,  and 
prompted  by  your  friendship,  come  to  me,  and  say, 
"  Mr.  Murray,  you  are  working  too  hard :  you  must 
hold  up."  Well,  I  hold  up.  I  sleep  more,  and  think 
less,  and,  as  the  result,  come  to  the  desk  on  the  next 
sabbath  with  a  sermon  less  carefully  put  together, 
less  accurate  in  analysis,  poorer  in  expression.  In 
brief,  it  is  unmistakably  below  my  average.  You  are 
aghast.  Perhaps  you  have  brought  a  friend  to  hear 
me.  You  half  apologize  to  him,  and  say,  "  That  is  the 
poorest  sermon  I  ever  heard  Mr.  Murray  preach." 
Every  one  says  so.  The  next  sabbath  and  the  next 
bring  the  same  experience ;  and  you  begin  to  shake 
your  heads,  and  say  in  whispers  one  to  another,  "  Well, 
well,  this  is  pretty  poor  preaching  our  pastor  is  giv- 
ing us  lately ;  isn't  it  ?  I  tell  you  what,  it  won't  do." 
I  tell  you  that  Americans  are  pitiless  in  their  criti- 
cisms of  public  men.  They  detect  instantly,  and  re- 
sent as  an  imposition,  any  departure  from  the  line  of 
average  excellence.  The  archer  that  misses  the  tar- 
get three  times  in  succession  can  never  shoot  in  re- 
spectable company  again.  Boston  forgives  any  thing 
sooner  than  intellectual  slovenliness. 

We  stand  upon  the  threshold  of  summer.  The 
pavements  begin  to  burn  with  heat,  and  the  gutters 
to  assault  the  nose  with  noisome  smells.  We  are 
approaching  that  season  when  terror  walketh  by  night, 
and  pestilence  wasteth  at  noonday.  I  exhort  all  of 
you  who  can  to  get  out  of  the  city.  Your  counting- 
rooms  will  soon  be  like  ovens,  and  your  streets  like 
furnaces.     Accommodate  your  business  to  the  neces- 


THEIR  NECESSITY  AND  VALUE.  283  ' 

sities  of  your  condition.  Money  is  not  the  only  object 
of  life.  Walk  leisurely ;  think  leisurely.  The  en- 
gineer puts  on  the  brakes,  and  slows  up,  when  the 
boxes  begin  to  smoke.  He  says,  "  Life  is  worth  more 
than  the  time-table.  I  will  land  every  passenger  safe- 
ly at  the  depot  if  I  am  an  hour  behind  the  running- 
time."  You  applaud  him  ;  and  yet  some  of  you  are 
making  preparations  to  run  your  energies  at  full 
pressure  the  summer  through.  Tested  by  the  lowest 
standard  of  success,  you  are  in  error.  The  man  whose 
brain  is  hot,  whose  blood  is  fevered,  whose  stomach  is 
soured  and  weakly,  is  the  man  who  will  blunder  in 
his  calculation.  If  I  were  in  business,  I  would  never 
have  any  but  healthy  men  for  partners.  I  would  not 
trust  my  fortune  to  the  judgment  of  a  person  who 
could  not  eat  with  a  relish,  and  sleep  soundly.  Dys- 
peptic men  are  worthless  in  a  business-concern,  save 
as  ornaments ;  and  they  are  rather  questionable  orna- 
ments !  You  will  all  make  more  money  in  eleven 
months,  if  you  will  take  one  for  rest,  than  by  keeping 
steadily  at  work  during  the  entire  twelve.  I  pray  you, 
therefore,  friends,  take  each  of  you,  this  year,  a  vaca- 
tion. Go  to  the  village  where  you  were  born,  to  the  old 
ancestral  farm  where  you  toiled  when  young  ;  revive 
the  sweet  and  sacred  memories  of  your  earlier  days ; 
and,  standing  at  the  very  point  where  your  aspira- 
tions and  efforts  began,  recall  the  mercies  of  God  to 
you  during  all  the  years  of  your  life  since.  Go  to 
the  sea-shore,  to  the  mountains,  to  the  wilderness ;  go 
anywhere  where  you  can  forget  your  cares  and  cast 
aside  your  burdens.     Eat,  sleep,  and  play  like  boys. 


284  MINISTERIAL  VACATIONS: 

Let  the  old,  old  nurse,  Nature,  —  the  one  mother 
of  us  all,  who  never  scolded  us  when  we  stole  her 
cherries,  never  upbraided  us  when  we  waded  her 
fish-pools  and  poached  on  her  preserves  ;  the  dear  old 
mother  that  never  sickens  and  never  dies,  —  take  you 
to  her  bosom  again  ;  and  you  will  return  to  the  city 
happier  and  healthier  for  the  embrace. 

Ah  me,  how  life  grinds  the  grit  into  us  !  how  like 
a  vampire  it  sucks  the  blood  out  of  our  veins  !  and, 
instead  of  standing  in  beauty  and  vigor  at  sixty,  we 
lean  heavily,  with  wrinkled  hands  and  colorless  faces, 
upon  the  staff.  Will  there  be  no  let-up  to  this  con- 
stant and  fearful  strain  on  heart  and  brain  to  which 
all  Americans  are  now  subject  ?  Must  we  all  die  be- 
fore our  time  ?  Must  compliance  with  the  condi- 
tions of  success  in  business  and  professional  life,  in 
our  country,  always  mean  slow  suicide  ?  I  submit, 
friends,  that,  sooner  or  later,  there  must  be  a  change. 
Flesh  and  blood  cannot  endure  it.  As  one  standing 
in  the  very  centre  of  the  current,  barely  able  to  keep 
his  feet  by  reason  of  the  pressure,  I  lift  my  voice  in 
protest  against  the  custom  of  the  times.  Speaking 
for  the  clerg}r,  I  speak  for  thousands  of  overworked 
men.  Ambitious,  zealous,  consecrated,  —  some  of 
them  too  poor,  others  too  proud,  to  stop,  —  they  are 
being  pressed  by  the  customs  of  the  age  beyond  en- 
durance. An  unreasonable  expectation  is  goading 
them  to  retirement  or  the  grave.  The  public  demand 
that  the  clergyman  must  be  a  scholar,  and  refuse  him 
the  leisure  and  appliances  on  which  scholarship  can 
alone  thrive.     He  must  be  a  philosopher  without  the 


THEIR  NECESSITY   AND   VALUE.  285 

seclusion  that  philosophy  loves.  He  must  match  the 
best  orators  of  the  lyceum,  and  yet  set  the  result  of 
four  days'  labor  over  against  the  result  of  four  months 
of  careful  preparation.  To  even  approximate  this, 
he  must  be  a  physical  and  mental  athlete.  Perfec- 
tion in  all  the  conditions  of  success  can  alone  insure 
it.  I  insist  that  the  churches  shall  bear  in  mind  that 
their  pastors  have  bodies  ;  that  they  are  subject  to  all 
the  conditions  of  physical  and  mental  exhaustion  ;  and 
that,  by  generous  and  selfish  considerations  alike, 
they  are  urged  to  provide  them  with  every  facility 
needed  to  keep  them  strong  and  robust. 

And  now,  my  people,  —  mine  by  the  election  of 
your  preference,  by  the  bestowment  of  your  love,  by 
the  blessed  exchange  of  sympathies,  and  the  compact 
of  a  most  glorious  hope,  —  let  me,  before  I  depart 
from  you  for  a  season,  thank  you  for  the  generous 
provisions  you  have  made,  since  my  first  coming 
among  you,  for  my  health  and  happiness.  You  have 
made  me  rich  in  facilities  of  culture  ;  you  have  fenced 
me  from  the  annoyances  of  a  too-limited  support ;  you 
have  made  my  cup  to  run  over.  Your  generosity  has 
constrained  me  to  be  generous.  I  have  been  like  a 
fountain,  that  holds  and  yields  forth  only  what  is 
poured  into  it.  We  know  not  what  shall  be  ;  but  the 
past  can  never  be  taken  from  us :  it  will  remain  in 
memory  like  a  great  sea  when  it  reveals  its  vast  ex- 
panse beneath  the  full-orbed  moon,  and  the  murmur 
of  its  motion  rises  like  a  ceaseless  psalm.  It  shall  be 
heard  in  recollection  until  that  hour  when  we  go 


286  MINISTERIAL   VACATIONS. 

down  and  stand  upon  the  shore  of  a  wider  sea,  and 
launch  our  barks  upon  it,  and  sail  forth  upon  its 
waters  until  we  reach  the  farther  marge,  where  we 
will  land,  and,  to  the  music  of  a  grander  psalm,  build 
our  everlasting  mansions. 


SABBATH  MORNING,  SEPT.  3,  1871. 


SERMON. 


TOPIC. -PERSONAL  RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANS  TO  CHRIST. 
*     "  Christ  in  tod,  the  hope  of  glory."  —  Col.  i.  27. 

THE  apostle,  in  the  context,  is  speaking  of  the 
relation  of  the  Gentiles  to  the  gospel ;  and,  in 
the  clause  we  have  quoted  as  our  text,  he  alludes  dis- 
tinctly to  the  relation  that  each  individual  disciple 
sustains  to  Christ.  And  I  wish,  this  morning,  to  speak 
to  you  upon  this  subject,  —  the  personal  relation  of 
Christians  to  Christ.  The  subject  maps  itself  out  to 
my  mind  along  these  three  lines  of  thought :  — 

1.  What  the  believer's  relation  to  Christ  is. 

2.  The  necessity  of  it. 

3.  What  its  influences  are. 

I  suggest,  to  start  with,  that  we,  as  Christians,  have 
more  than  an  external  relation  to  gospel  truth,  — even 
an  internal  one.  "  I  do  not  catch  your  idea,"  you  say. 
Well,  you  shall  have  it,  then,  illustrated.  We  have 
an  external  relation  to  every  truth  known  to  the 
mind.  Every  truth  of  astronomy,  of  science,  of  art, 
of  government,  that  is  known  to  us,  has,  by  the  fact 
of  its  being  known,  a  certain  relation  to  us.     Our 

287 


288         RELATION   OF   CHRISTIANS  TO   CHRIST. 

knowledge  has  connected  us  with  it ;  made  it,  in  a  cer- 
tain sense,  ours.  Thus  knowledge  unites  me  to  all 
that  my  mind  apprehends.  There  is  a  relation  be- 
tween it  and  myself  such  as  did  not  exist  previous  to 
my  apprehension  of  it.  This  is  what  I  call  the  exter- 
nal relation  a  man  may  sustain  to  truth,  —  the  relation 
of  knowledge,  of  intellectual  apprehension,  of  mental 
discernment.  Such  is  the  relation  which  thousands 
have  to  the  truth  of  Scripture.  Intellectually  they 
believe  it.  They  have  a  connection  with  Christianity, 
and  yet  are  not  Christians.  They  take  the  Bible  very 
much  as  the  ice  takes  the  sun.  They  give  it  a  surface- 
reception  :  they  take  it  upon  themselves,  not  into 
themselves.  But  the  Christian  takes  the  truth  as  it 
is  in  Christ,  not  as  the  ice,  but  as  the  earth,  takes  the 
sun,  —  into  himself.  His  connection  with  it  is  not 
an  external,  but  an  internal,  a  responsive  connection. 
When  the  sun  comes  creeping  up  the  eastern  sky  in 
winter,  how  coldly  he  is  received  !  The  earth  gives 
no  greeting;  makes  no  response  as  he  approaches. 
His  beams  can  send  no  thrill  along  the  ice  ;  can  start 
no  pulsation  amid  the  snow  ;  can  quicken  no  energy 
in  the  leafless  trees  ;  can  bring  no  flush  to  the  face 
of  the  sky.  He  shines  in  vain,  because  his  rays  elicit 
no  response,  quicken  no  germinant  power.  And  yet 
the  ice  and  snow  and  trees  and  sky  have  a  relation  to 
the  sun,  even  in  midwinter ;  but  it  is  not  a  warm, 
lively  relation,  but  a  cold  and  lifeless  one,  —  an  exter- 
nal relation  only.  So  it  is  with  many  touching  gospel 
truth.  It  shines  upon  them  ;  but  it  stirs  no  response 
in  their  hearts  :  it  sheds  itself  down  upon  them ;  but 


EELATION   OF  CHRISTIANS  TO   CHRIST.       289 

they  give  nothing  back  to  it :  it  brings  them  out  of 
darkness,  even  as  the  sun  brings  the  ice  out  of  the 
gloom  of  night;   but  they  keep  their  fixed,  frozen, 
insensible  state  still.     Their  relation  to  it  is  a  mere 
external,  unsympathetic,    accidental   relation.      But 
consider  the  sun  when   he   comes  wheeling  his  way 
back  from  the  south  in  the  glad  spring-season.     How 
the  earth  hails  him  each  morning  with  a  greeting 
warmer  and  sweeter  at  each  repetition  !     The  ice  re- 
pents of  its  coldness,  and  weeps  its  iciness  away  ;  the 
snow  hurries  along  in  rivulets,  as  if  glad  to  lose  its 
own  life   in  ministering    to   others ;    the    trees  lose 
their  rigidity,  and  no  longer  resist  the  breezes,  but 
yield  coquettishly  to  them :  every  thing  seems  com- 
pliant.    And  how  powerful   the   sun  is  !     How  the 
earth-pulses  beat  at  his  coming !     How  the  ground 
thrills  and  heaves  with  up-pushing    growth !     How 
the  grasses  multiply  themselves  !  and  the  flowers  — 
how  they  bud  and  blossom  !    The  leaves  thicken  along 
the  landscape,  and  the   earth   hails   the   sun  in  its 
wealth   of   overflowing  life.     It  is   true,  the    earth 
would  be  nothing  without  the  sun  :  but  how  it  glori- 
fies him  !  how  sweetly  it  responds  to  his  solicitation  ! 
and  how  it  pays  him  back  for  all  his  ministrations  to  it ! 
Its  relation  to  him,  you  see,  friends,  is  far  other  than 
it  was  in  winter.     It  is  now  an  internal,  a  vital,  a  re- 
sponsive relation,  —  a  relation  powerful  in  its  effects, 
and  beautiful  in  its  results.      And  so,  when  Christ 
comes  up  in  all  the  glory  and  warmth  of  his  love,  and 
stands  over  a  man,  and  in  a  thousand  convictions  and 
ten  thousand  promptings  sheds  himself  down  upon 

16 


290         RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANS  TO   CHRIST. 

him,  and  the  man  opens  his  nature  to  him,  and  receives 
him,  he  is  quickened  in  all  the  forces  of  his  nature. 
He  begins  to  flower  out  morally,  and  be  clothed  upon 
in  beauty.  His  relation  to  Christ  is  no  longer  an 
external  one ;  it  is  no  longer  inefficient :  it  is  an 
internal,  a  vital,  and  a  vitalizing  relation.  He  does 
more  than  apprehend  truth  :  he  loves  it.  Heart,  hand, 
eye,  every  sense  and  faculty,  are  capable  of  new  and 
happy  sensations.  Christ  is  no  longer  afar  off,  a  being 
to  discuss  and  speculate  about :  he  is  in  him  as  the 
leaven  is  in  the  loaf,  —  a  power  whose  workings  are 
felt,  and  whose  effects  are  seen. 

There,  friends,  all  of  you,  even  the  youngest,  must 
understand  the  difference  between  having  an  external 
and  an  internal  relation  to  truth,  especially  the  truth 
which  is  in  Jesus.  The  distinction  is  a  very  broad 
one.  The  query  springs  to  my  lips,  and  I  put  it  to 
you  in  the  candor  of  sympathy,  Which  of  the  two 
relations  do  you  personally  sustain  to  your  Saviour  ? 
Is  he  any  thing  more  to  you  than  a  being  whom  your 
intellect  accepts  ?  Is  he  dear  to  you  as  one  deserving 
your  love,  both  from  what  he  is  in  himself,  and  also 
from  what  he  has  done  for  you  ?  Have  you  received 
him  into  your  heart  as  one  to  be  treasured  and  kept  ? 
as  one  from  whom  you  cannot  be  separated  unless 
you  die  ?  Does  your  imagination  picture  him  warmly, 
or  coldly  ?  Do  you  see  him  as  a  being  afar  off,  dim, 
unsubstantial,  ghostly  ?  or  as  one  verily  with  you, 
whose  face  you  can  see,  whose  hand  you  can  take, 
and  upon  whose  bosom  you  can  lean  ?  Ah  me  !  there 
was  a  time  when  Christ  was  loved ;  when  the  faith 


RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANS  TO   CHBIST.        291 

of  the  Church  had  some  warmth  and  glow  in  it ; 
when  creeds  and  doctrines  were  valued  only  as  helps 
to  come  to  and  take  hold  of  the  person  of  the  Lord ; 
when  men  and  women  died  for  him  as  the  loyal  have 
died  for  an  absent  but  beloved  king :  but  we  have 
taken  the  passion  out  of  religion  by  making  it  mean 
adherence  to  a  set  of  dogmas,  rather  than  what  it 
should  mean,  —  adherence  to  the  blessed  Person. 
Sin  is  counted  nothing  but  breaking  certain  rules 
which  cannot  feel  the  severance  ;  whereas  sin  is  most 
ugly  in  us,  because,  if  I  may  so  speak,  it  breaks  the 
heart  of  Christ.  It  is  a  personal  insult,  and  gives  a 
personal  wound,  to  Him  who  died  for  us,  and  hurts 
him  like  a  stab.  And  this  is  what  is  meant,  as  I  con- 
ceive, when  the  Scriptures  speak  of  some  who  "  cru- 
cify Christ  afresh."  For  you  should  remember  that 
he  is  a  conscious  and  sensitive  being.  He  observes 
our  conduct  daily.  He  is  easily  "  grieved  in  his 
heart."  He  is  not  so  superior  as  to  be  unaffected  by 
your  treatment.     He  is  your  Elder  Brother. 

My  hearer,  listen  to  me.  I  seek  with  more  than 
ordinary  earnestness  to  win  you  over  to  this  view  of 
regarding  your  Saviour,  because  from  it  alone,  as  I 
think,  can  you  receive  that  strength  and  consolation, 
which  more  than  once,  in  the  days  ahead  of  you, 
you  will  need.  The  truth  I  am  expanding  and  seek- 
ing to  inculcate  is  a  generic  one.  It  is  not  a  dogma : 
it  is  a  principle.  This  is  my  position,  —  that  an  inti- 
mate, internal,  loving,  and  vital  relation  must  always 
be  a  personal  one.  You  cannot  love  a  creed,  a  con- 
fession of  faith,  a  philosophy,  a  text  of  Scripture,  or 


292         RELATION  OF   CHRISTIANS  TO  CHRIST. 

all  these  put  together  into  an  institution  or  a  school, 
any  more  than  you  can  love  a  shade  of  color  or  a 
sound  in  the  air.  Love  is  given  only  to  a  living, 
personal  being.  Recall  the  sweetest  passage  of  your 
life,  —  that  for  which  you  would  die  sooner  than  sur- 
render the  memory  of  it ;  an  hour  of  revelation  which 
opened  up  your  nature  to  your  own  eyes,  and  made 
you  for  the  first  time  know  yourself ;  a  moment  of 
swift  recognition  of  a  want  unfelt  before,  of  a  fulness 
never  till  then  supplied,  —  recall,  I  say,  the  noblest 
friendship  you  have  ever  felt,  the  deepest,  holiest  love 
you  have  ever  known,  and  tell  me,  if,  in  the  centre  of 
the  recollection,  there  is  not  a  face,  even  as  a  picture 
is  within  the  borders  of  a  frame,  —  a  face  that  is  never 
hidden,  a  voice  that  is  never  hushed,  a  form  that  is 
never  absent.  Have  you  met  any  thing  in  all  your 
past  like  this  ?  If  so,  can  you  disconnect  the  mem- 
ory from  the  person  of  whom  the  recollection  is  a 
part,  even  as  the  halo  is  a  part  of  the  saintly  face  it 
enshrines  ?  Can  you  say,  "  I  loved  his  virtue,  his 
charity,  his  patience,  his  talents  "  ?  No  :  your  heart 
gives  the  lie  to  j^our  analysis,  and,  true  to  its  in- 
stincts, murmurs,  "  I  only  know  that  I  loved  the 
man."  And  so,  the  world  over,  the  relation  of  love 
is  a  personal  relation.  An  element,  a  characteristic, 
cannot  awaken  a  passion.  "  If  ye  love  me"  said 
Christ,  "ye  will  keep  my  words."  Nobler,  purer,  bet- 
ter than  all  he  published  or  revealed  was  himself. 

It  is  only  when  thus  regarded  that  Christianity  has 
any  self-sacrificing  element  in  it.  But  love  is  full  of 
service,  full  of  self-denial,  for  the  object  of  its  affec- 


BELATION  OF   CHRISTIANS  TO   CHRIST.        293 

tion.  We  all  know  from  experience  what  a  mother's 
love  is,  —  the  toils,  the  labors,  the  patience,  that  it 
represents.  But  there  is  a  love  greater  than  this 
even,  equal  in  service,  deeper  in  its  fervor ;  and  what 
it  will  not  dare,  what  it  will  not  endure,  the  Author 
of  it  alone  knows.  Let  two  be  united  by  it,  each 
finding  in  the  other  the  answer  of  their  best  prayer, 
the  supply  of  their  deepest  social,  mental,  and  spirit- 
ual need ;  each  fitted  to  the  other  like  a  noble  word 
to  a  sweet  note,  and  hence  a  mutual  delight.  Such 
a  love  is  invincible  against  every  combination  of  a 
changeful  life  :  it  will  give  up  home,  parents,  coun- 
try, and  friends  ;  it  will  accept  poverty  with  glad- 
ness, and  regard  happiness  cheap  purchased  at  such 
a  price  ;  it  will  risk  life  itself  in  order  to  keep  the 
integrity  of  its  faithfulness,  and  die  rather  than  fore- 
go its  adherence.  This  is  not  poetry ;  at  least,  if  it 
is,  it  is  the  poetry,  not  of  fiction,  but  of  real  life.  The 
old  romance  of  human  nature  has  not  wholly  died 
out ;  and  its  starry  faith  has  not  yet  shaded  its  re- 
splendent orb.  Love,  to-day,  is  as  full  of  self-surren- 
der, of  service,  of  patience  which  hungers  and  speaks 
not,  which  suffers  and  makes  no  sound,  as  it  ever 
was ;  yea,  fuller. 

It  is  in  vain,  friends,  for  men  to  strive  to  build  up 
a  religion  that  has  not  as  its  centre,  and  source  of  in- 
spiration, some  person  to  love.  This  is  the  pivot 
around  which  all  faith,  all  service,  all  hope  circle 
and  swing  with  an  ever-widening  circumference,  — 
a  circumference  which  sweeps  tribe  after  tribe,  race 
after  race,  and  soul  after  soul,  within  the  circle  of  its 


294         RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANS  TO   CHRIST. 

charmed  line.  What  would  Papacy  be  without  its 
pope  ?  what  Mahometanisrn  without  its  prophet  ?  what 
Christianity  without  the  Christ  ?  Tenets,  dogmas, 
creeds,  speculations,  and  theories,  —  these  make,  in- 
deed, the  form  and  outline  of  a  sun :  but,  alas !  they 
cannot  supply  it  with  beams ;  they  cannot  give  to  it 
that  light  which  quickens,  and  that  warmth  which 
brings  the  germinant  forces  of  holiness  forward.  These 
make  a  theologian,  a  philosopher,  a  reformer  ;  but  they 
cannot  make  a  Christian  or  a  saint. 

My  people,  do  any  of  you  know  a  person  for  whom 
and  with  whom  you  are  willing  to  bear  shame  ?  Do 
you  know  of  one  whom  you  honor  and  reverence  so 
much,  that  to  hear  him  spoken  lightly  of  and  reviled 
is  a  greater  pain  than  to  be  reviled  yourself?  If  you 
know  of  such  a  person,  your  love  is  indeed  great,  and 
you  supply  me  with  an  illustration.  Take  away  that 
dear  one's  name,  and  in  its  place  write  "  Jesus."  Do 
you  know  of  one  whose  presence  is  better  than 
wealth  ?  whose  presence  would  make  a  desert  like  a 
bower,  and  the  solitude  of  a  wilderness  cheerful?  — 
one  so  dear  to  you,  that  proximity  means  happiness, 
and  separation  misery  ?  in  respect  to  whom,  so  much 
do  you  love  him,  you  can,  without  exaggeration,  say, 
"  With  him  I  have  all,  without  him  I  have  nothing  "  ? 
If  such  a  one  you  know,  then  him  also  do  you  indeed 
love  with  a  love  as  bright  and  everlasting  as  the  stars. 
Take  away  his  name,  and  write  in  its  stead  "  My  Sa- 
viour." Or  once  more  let  me  inquire,  Do  you  know 
of  one  (I  know  not  who  can  follow  me  in  this  ;  for  it 
is  a  deed  so  rare  and  saintly,  that,  being  done,  it  lives 


RELATION   OF  CHRISTIANS  TO   CHRIST.       295 

with  the  immortality  of  letters),  —  do  you  know  of 
one,  I  say,  for  whom  you  could  die  ?  Do  you  know  of 
one  so  generous,  so  grand,  so  dear,  that  you  would 
stand  at  the  door  of  his  dungeon,  your  mouth  filled 
with  only  one  prayer,  —  to  take  his  place,  or  at  least  to 
share  his  doom  ?  Then  have  }^ou  touched  the  height 
of  heroic  devotion ;  for  He  toward  whom  I  ask  you 
to  feel  like  this  has  said,  "  Greater  love  hath  no  man 
than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down  his  life  for  his  friend." 
Do  you  see  what  such  a  love  for  Christ  begets  ?  Note 
as  I  enumerate  a  few  only  of  the  results.  I  mention, 
first,  service;  second,  great  grief  in  view  of  any  sin, 
because  offensive  to  him ;  third,  jog.  Such  a  love 
revels  and  delights  ;  it  is  full  of  song  and  exultation  ; 
it  deems  its  lot  the  happiest  possible,  and  is  never 
done  wondering  at  its  good  fortune.  Here,  then, 
springing  out  of  this  love  for  a  personal  Christ,  are 
these  three  results,  —  work  for  Christ,  repentance 
for  sin  as  done  against  Christ,  and  joy  in  Christ. 

Now,  friends,  you  see  that  Christ  is  not  in  us  by 
reason  of  our  having  accepted  a  certain  set  of  formu- 
lated ideas,  but  by  reason  of  a  change  which  has  come 
over  our  feelings  towards  him.  It  is  not  because  you 
have  believed  a  given  number  of  doctrines  that  you 
are  a  Christian,  but  because  you  have  established, 
through  faith,  a  personal  relation  with  Christ  himself. 
All  our  views  of  Christ,  all  doctrines  that  are  worth 
knowing,  spring  out  of  this  felt  personal  relation  to 
the  Saviour,  as  flowers  out  of  an  upheaved  and 
shapely  mound  in  which  they  were  planted.  What 
you  should  cultivate,  therefore,  is  not  knowledge  of 


296         RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANS  TO   CHRIST. 

his  doctrines  so  much  as  a  closer  intimacy  in  your 
heart  with  him.  It  is  not  the  truth  which  he  pub- 
lished that  you  are  to  have  in  you  so  much  as  Him 
who  is  the  very  author  of  truth.  Your  obligation  as 
Christians  springs,  not  from  your  relation  to  the  cove- 
nant of  this  church,  but  from  your  relation  with  Him 
with  whom  you  have  covenanted.  It  is  not  the  law 
you  are  to  obey,  but  the  law-maker ;  and  by  him,  and 
not  by  it,  are  you  at  last  to  be  judged.  Through  type 
and  symbol,  through  prophecy  and  revelation,  through 
commandment  and  doctrine,  your  eye  should  cease- 
lessly seek  to  find  the  person  of  your  Saviour.  It  is 
not  the  altar,  but  the  priest  that  ministers  at  it,  and 
gives  to  it  its  sanctity ;  it  is  not  the  throne,  but  the 
king  upon  it;  it  is  not  the  doctrine  of  the  atone- 
ment, but  the  blessed  Being  that  made  it  by  his  own 
sufferings  and  death,  —  that  should  receive  your  rev- 
erence, your  homage,  and  your  love.  O  men  and 
women  without  a  Saviour !  I  seek  not  to  convert  you 
to  any  set  of  doctrines  this  morning ;  I  seek  not  to 
make  you  read  this  text  or  that  as  I  read  it :  I  only 
seek  to  make  you  feel  to-day  that  you  have  a  friend 
in  heaven  ;  I  only  crave  that  you  might  feel  what  I 
have  felt  when  tempted,  when  oppressed,  when  set 
upon  by  troubles  not  a  few,  —  that  One  there  is  who 
saw  me,  who  strengthened  me,  and  who  would  redeem 
me  in  my  hour  of  death.  Men  care  little  about  doc- 
trines when  they  come  to  die.  Some  hand  to  clasp, 
some  voice  to  cheer,  some  look  of  love  to  soothe,  some 
faithful  breast  on  which  to  lie,  —  for  this  human- 
ity cries  in  the  sharp  agony.     Guide-books  are  good 


RELATION  OP  CHRISTIANS  TO   CHRIST.        297 

for  cities  ;  but  when  you  thread  the  wilderness,  or 
climb  the  dizzy  height  where  hangs  the  poised  ava- 
lanche which  the  stroke  of  an  alpenstock  can  start 
from  its  precarious  balance,  then  man  needs  more 
than  a  guide-book:  he  needs  a  guide.  O  wander- 
ers   in   life's    wilderness !    O    climbers    alonGT    craers 

o  o 

which  beetle  over  chasms  unmeasurable  !  have  you 
a 'guide  ?  You  will  go  down  to  your  homes  and  the 
places  of  your  abode,  and  life  will  claim  you  in  its 
duties,  and  my  words  will  be  forgotten.  I  know  the 
lot  of  speaking,  and  the  inevitable  fortune  of  utter- 
ance. Against  the  swift  multitude  of  your  thoughts 
and  your  diversions  to-morrow  my  words  will  be  like 
feathers  blown  out  of  sight  by  the  strong  winds.  You 
will  remember  where  you  heard  them,  and  no  more  ; 
perchance  not  even  this.  Be  it  so.  I  build  my  hope 
on  this,  —  that  some  impression  has  been  made  which 
will  enter  among  and  become  a  part  of  the  needed 
impressions  of  your  life  ;  some  seed-thought  planted, 
which,  hidden  now,  will  find  the  light,  and  bud  and 
blossom  on  some  future  day. 

This  personal  relation  to  Christ  produces  in  us  a 
certain  result  of  which  the  text  makes  mention, — 
hope.  Love  is  always  hopeful :  its  faith  in  itself 
makes  it  so.  In  its  own  thought *it  is  immortal;  and 
hence  the  hope  of  immortality  is  in  it.  It  uses  this 
world  if  permitted,  but  builds  the  foundation  of  its 
permanent  happiness  in  the  world  to  come.  In  this 
hope  it  is  content  to  endure  all  things  here,  confident 
that  it  shall  have  all  things  in  the  hereafter.  Its  face 
is  like  that  of  Evangeline,  —  patient,  wistful,  with  a 

13* 


298         RELATION  OP  CHRISTIANS  TO  CHRIST. 

look  that  is  directed  upward  and  beyond.  Memory 
to  it  is  sweet ;  but  it  does  not  live  in  remembrance. 
Possession  is  precious ;  but  the  present  never  bounds 
the  line  of  its  aspiration.  Its  musings,  its  aspirations, 
its  dreams,  are  of  a  wider,  a  fuller,  and  an  endless 
future.  This  is  true  of  love  in  its  best  estate  aDd 
happiest  earthly  condition.  What  must  it  be,  then, 
when  cramped,  when  separated  from  the  object  of  its 
desire,  when  denied  every  thing  but  the  joy  of  its 
own  faithfulness  ?  What,  then,  can  it  find  in  the  past 
but  emptiness  ?  what  in  the  present  but  deprivation  ? 
How  glorious  and  dear  the  future  is  to  it  now  !  what 
beautiful  possibilities  are  in  it !  what  divine  certain- 
ties of  union  and  life  lie  ahead !  It  is  like  a  bird  over- 
taken by  night  when  far  from  its  mate  and  nest.  It 
longs  for  the  morning,  for  the  ecstasy  of  the  swift 
passage,  and  the  meeting  in  the  warm  sunshine. 
Some  of  you,  at  least,  know  the  depth  of  the  truth  of 
these  words  of  Christ,  "  Where  your  treasure  is,  there 
will  your  heart  be  also  ; "  and  you  know  how  the 
heart  aches,  and  how  strong  the  longing  within  your 
bosom  is,  at  times,  to  go  hence,  and  be  where  your 
desires  elect. 

"  But  no  one  has  ever  taught  me  to  love  Christ 
so,"  you  say.  "  It  seems  queer  to  hear  you  talk  as 
if  he  is  a  real  being,  —  a  being  to  be  loved,  and  longed 
for  as  for  some  dear,  absent,  earthly  friend.  I  do  not 
understand  it."  I  understand  it,  my  hearer.  You 
have  been  taught  to  believe  in  creeds  and  doctrines 
more  than  in  him  the  personal  Saviour.  The  bulk 
of  your  religious  instruction  has  been  of  what  he  said 


RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANS  TO   CHRIST.       299 

and  did  when  visible  to  the  senses  of  men  on  the 
earth.  You  have  been  instructed  in  the  knowledge 
of  words ;  made  wise  in  definition,  and  analysis  of 
terms  and  phrases.  You  have  been  made  to  feel  that 
your  hope  of  heaven  depends  upon  your  acceptance 
of  a  set  of  published  ideas,  and  not  upon  your  per- 
sonal relation  to  God  through  Christ.  The  articles 
of  faith  have  been  presented  to  you  as  if  a  certain 
degree  of  competence  in  confession  brings  you  up  to 
the  level  of  the  needed  holiness  ;  and  the  result  is 
(I  do  not  say  that  it  has  been  reached  intelligently 
by  you,  or  forwarded  in  you  designedly  by  others),  — 
the  result  is,  I  say,  that  Christ,  in  his  personal  relation 
to  you  as  a  living,  loving  being,  has  been  pushed  almost 
out  of  sight,  and  made  to  seem  unreal,  fictitious,  and 
imaginary.  Your  works  have  been  in  the  form  of  a 
service  prompted  by  a  sense  of  duty,  and  not  in  the 
form  of  an  offering  impelled  by  love.  Sin  has  been 
only  the  transgression  of  a  rule,  and  not  an  offence 
put  upon  God ;  and  your  joy  is  found  in  the  num- 
ber of  things  done  or  left  undone,  and  not  in  the 
growing  consciousness  that  you  are  accepted  of  Him 
whom  your  soul  loveth.  The  whole  drift  of  the  in- 
struction you  have  received  has  been  to  make  you  a 
theologian,  and  not  a  saint ;  and  this,  I  believe,  is,  to 
a  large  extent,  true  of  the  entire  modern  Church.  It 
is  unconsciously  substituting  knowledge  for  piety, 
and  striving  to  feel  an  impossible  love  for  an  impossi- 
ble Christ ;  for  if  religion  does  not  mean  a  personal 
relation  to  a  personal  being,  then  love  is  impossible. 
Suffer  one  other  suggestion.     A  hope  that  is  built 


800         RELATION  OF   CHRISTIANS  TO   CHRIST. 

on  acceptance  of  the  truth,  on  degrees  of  knowb 
edge  and  obedience,  on  sincerity  of  purpose  or  effort, 
and  not  on  the  merit  and  intercessions  of  a  personal 
Redeemer,  is,  and  must  be,  a  timid  and  inconstant 
feeling.  There  is  a  reason  why  ignorant  Christians 
are  always  hopeful.  It  is  not  because  they  have  less 
knowledge,  but  because,  having  less,  their  faith  is  less 
diverted  from  its  proper  and  sublime  object.  They  lit- 
erally know  nothing  but  "  Jesus,  and  him  crucified  ; " 
and  on  him  they  rely  witja  an  unquestioning  faith. 
He  is  their  all-in-all :  he,  and  he  alone,  is  their  hope 
of  glory.  And  what  a  hope  theirs  is  !  I  have  seen 
such  die.  They  were  poor,  unlettered,  destitute  of 
ideas  ;  they  had  had  no  traffic  in  the  great  com- 
merce of  the  world's  thought ;  it  were  easy  for  wit 
to  mock  them,  and  for  culture  to  pity  their  igno- 
rance :  but  they  died  as  the  sun  comes  out  of  an 
eclipse,  their  natures  revealing  great  glory  as  they 
moved  from  behind  the  shadow  of  their  mortality. 
No  crying  out,  no  shrinking  back  as  from  an  untried 
fate,  no  knitting  up  of  courage  as  for  a  mighty  effort, 
no  grasping  of  mortal  hands  as  if  for  help,  no  swift 
and  anxious  dialogue  with  the  onlooking  pastor,  no 
doubt  and  trembling  when  they  came  to  die  ;  but 
with  hands  folded  for  rest,  with  eyes  uplifted  to 
heaven  and  full  of  joy,  with  countenances  lighted 
as  is  the  face  when  it  answereth  to  the  face  of  a 
friend,  with  a  sigh  like  the  last  long  breath  of  weari- 
ness passing  into  sleep,  they  gently  breathed  their 
lives  out  in  the  arms  of  Jesus.  He  was  no  myth  to 
them.     They  saw  him,  not  through  form  and  cere- 


i  *+2  %g& 


?» 


RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANS  TO  CHRIST.        301 

mony,  through  type  and  symbol,  through  theologic 
treatise  and  verbal  memorizing  of  the  catechism: 
they  saw  him  as  the  patient  sees  the  physician ;  as 
the  lamb  sees  the  Eastern  shepherd  when  it  lies  in 
the  folds  of  his  vestment :  they  saw  him  as  the  up- 
lifted eye  of  love  sees  the  face  of  answering  love 
above  it;  and  seeing  this,  doubt  being  unknown  in 
the  perfection  of  their  faith,  fear  being  cast  out  by 
the  perfectness  of  their  love,  they  closed  their  eyes 
as  flowers  close  at  the  setting  of  the  sun,  and  gently  • 
"  fell  on  sleep." 

And  now,  you  who  have  followed  me  with  patience, 
only  dimly  catching  at  the  thought,  perhaps,  —  for  I 
have  found  it  impossible  to  bring  my  thought  out, 
and  make  the  division-liue  of  its  varied  shadings  dis- 
tinct and  true,  —  you  who  have  dimly  caught,  I  say, 
at  what  I  meant,  and  seen  the  bright,  glad  world  of 
faith  and  love  which  I  have  not  revealed,  but  only 
suggested,  —  a  world  of  love  for  the  most  lovely,  of 
faith  in  the  most  faithful,  of  joy  in  Him  who  was 
once .  most  sorrowful,  but  is  now  most  blessed,  — 
make  your  relation  to  the  Saviour  a  personal  one. 
Let  him,  in  all  your  thought,  be  near  and  dear  to  you. 
You  know  what  he  expects.  Such  love  as  his  for 
you  always  expects  much.  If  you  love  father  or 
mother  more  than  him,  you  are  not  worthy  of  him. 
Remember  that  love  has  but  one  line  or  rule  in  giv- 
ing :  it  is  that  by  which  it  receives.  And  nobler, 
purer,  sweeter  (I  will  not  say  more  lasting,  for  both 
shall  live  forever),  but  tenderer  and  more  fervid,  than 
love  of  father  and  mother,  has  been,  and  is,  Christ's* 


302         RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANS  TO  CHRIST. 

love  for  you.  Are  you  sick  ?  —  his  eyes  shall  keep 
their  watching  when  the  mother's,  through  weariness, 
close  in  sleep.  Are  you  shut  out  from  counsel  ?  —  go 
to  a  love  that  respects  all  human  secrets,  and  a  wis- 
dom competent  to  guide.  Are  you  heavy-hearted, 
weighed  down,  oppressed? — "  Come  unto  me,"  he 
says,  "and  I  wiD  give  you  rest."  Have  you  found 
your  ignorance  by  erring,  and  your  weakness  by  many 
a  fall?  —  go  to  Him  who  knows  your  frame,  and  re- 
members that  you  are  dust.  Have  you  sinned  ?  —  go 
to  a  mercy  whose  forgiveness  a  thief  receives,  and  a 
murderer  cannot  exhaust.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  you 
are  happy;  if  any  thing  sweet  and  fragrant  has  come 
to  you ;  if  your  soul  has  been  enriched  by  what  man 
could  not  give ;  if  you  have  any  thing  so  precious  to 
you,  that  it  connects  both  worlds,  puts  one  in  commu- 
nication with  the  other,  and  makes  both  blessed,  — 
then  take  it  as  coming  direct  from  Him,  warm  and 
sweet  with  the  recent  touch  of  his  all-bestowing  palm. 
Oh  that  the  glory  and  warmth  of  the  orient  might  be 
seen  and  felt  in  our  western  sky !  Oh  that  the  majesty 
of  the  palm,  —  emblem  of  stateliness  in  growth,  and 
of  victory  when  strewn,  —  and  the  wealth  of  the 
pomegranate,  and  the  rich  beauty  of  the  Eastern  lil- 
ies, might  be  again  suggested  to  her  poets  when  they 
sing  of  the  Church!  How  shall  we  call  her  more 
the  Bride  of  Christ,  when  so  much  of  speculation, 
and  so  little  of  love,  is  in  her  bosom  ?  When  will 
the  old  rich  glow  come  back  to  her  features,  the  full 
pulse  to  her  veins,  and  all  that  life  of  personal  affec- 
tion for  her  Lord  which  filled  her  mouth  with  sonars 


RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANS   TO   CHRIST.         303 

when  at  her  work,  and  made  her  faithfulness  unto 
death  a  wonder  to  those  that  could  not  comprehend, 
and  hated  the  love  that  made  infidelity  impossible, 
and  martyrdom  a  joy  ?  I  know  not ;  but  this  I  know, 
that  this  will  never  be  until  the  personal  relation  be- 
tween each  disciple  and  Christ  be  taught,  felt,  and 
ardently  believed. 

O  Love!  thy  feet  are  beautiful  upon  the  moun- 
tains and  in  the  highways  of  human  life.  Thy  face 
is  lovely  on  the  throne,  and  not  less  lovely  at  the 
peasant's  humble  door.  A  house  with  thee  becomes  a 
home  ;  and  a  dungeon,  if  thou  art  in  it,  is  not  utterly 
desolate.  Thy  worth  is  known  by  those  who  have 
thee ;  and  by  those  who  have  thee  not  art  thou  es- 
teemed. Beautiful  art  thou  at  the  marriage-feast, 
with  mirth  and  laughter,  the  voluptuous  swell  of 
music,  and  in  rooms  whose  slumberous  air  is  heavy 
with  the  scent  of  orange-flowers ;  beautiful,  also,  art 
thou  in  chambers  of  happy  birth,  when  motherhood 
is  born  with  the  first-born's  breath,  and  she  who  giv- 
eth  birth  is  born  again ;  beautiful,  too,  as  we  can 
testify,  when  on  thy  knees  beside  the  dying-couch, 
with  clasped  hands  and  flooded  eyes,  thou  givest  thy 
farewell  kiss  to  lips  that  nevermore  will  give  the  an- 
swering kiss  this  side  of  heaven  :  but  never  art- thou  so 
much  thyself,  never  so  gracious,  so  like  thy  Father, 
as  when  thou  dost  unite  in  an  eternal  bond  the  heart 
of  sinful  man  unto  his  God.  Come  then,  to  all  this 
people,  in  thy  most  beautiful  shape,  clothed  like  a 
vestal,  and  supremely  pure  ;  breathe  out  thy  breath 
upon  us ;  quicken  each  holy  sense  ;  create  in  us  the 


304         RELATION   OF   CHRISTIANS  TO   CHRIST. 

deathless  yearning,  the  undying  faith,  the  changeless 
hope :  for  by  thy  power  alone  will  Christ,  revealed, 
experienced,  as  love  by  love,  be  formed  in  us,  "  the 
hope  of  glory." 


SABBATH  MORNING,  SEPT.  10,  1871. 


SERMON. 


SUBJECT.-DEATH     A    GAIN. 

"TO  DIE  IS  GAIN."  — Phil.  J.  21. 

AS  a  strain  of  music,  mellowed  by  distance  and 
the  moist  evening-air  in  summer  through  which 
it  passes,  and  which  it  fills  until  the  darkness  beats 
with  the  melody,  dies  out,  and  is  not  heard  for  a  while, 
but  anon  is  heard  again,  as  one  sees  a  ship  far  off  at 
sea,  —  a  little  speck  of  sound,  which  comes  swiftly  on 
and  enlarges  itself  until  it  moves  along  the  air  in  ma- 
jestic resonance ;  so  has  it  been  with  me  touching 
this  theme,  —  the  gain  of  dying.  It  came  to  me  like 
music,  grave,  solemn,  and  sweet,  with  here  and  there 
a  lively,  quick-running,  exultant  tone,  as  when  the 
player  in  the  midst  of  some  majestic  movement  of  the 
lower  chords  flashes  his  hand  along  the  higher  keys. 
It  came,  and  died  away;  and  I  have  waited  vainly  un- 
til now  to  hear  the  dying  in  some'  rising  strain.  At 
last  it  comes.  I  catch  the  well-known  chord  again,  — 
the  same  sublime,  upheaving  movement  of  thought, 
of  hope,  of  impulse :  and  as  the  eagle  about  to  soar 
seeks  and  finds  and  puts  himself  upon  a  column  of 

305 


306  DEATH  A  GAIN. 

uplifting  air,  and  is  by  its  upheaving  power  borne  up 
and  up  until  he  finds  the  height  he  had  in  mind  at 
starting,  the  unruffled  calm  of  upper  heaven,  and 
the  majestic,  unclouded  orb ;  so  I,  a  thing  of  flesh, 
whose  home  is  amid  shadows,  and  not  above  the  fog, 
seek  now  this  mighty,  uplifting  theme,  and  put  my 
mind  upon  it,  asking  only  that  it  may  lift  me  to  the 
upper  realm  of  faith,  whose  deep  tranquillity  is  un- 
fretted  by  currents  of  earthly  thought,  and  filled  for- 
ever with  the  light  of  the  glory  of  the  Lord. 

I  am  to  speak  of  the  social  gain  of  dying.  My  dis- 
course is  based  upon  this  thought,  —  that  as  a  social 
being,  as  one  born  to  love  and  be  loved,  as  one  fond 
of  companionship  and  intercourse  with  his  kind,  man 
will  not  lose,  but  gain,  by  the  experience  called 
death.  Socially  he  will  be  better  conditioned  out  of 
his  present  body  than  he  is  in  it. 

To  me,  death  as  an  event  has  a  twofold  signifi- 
cance. For  years,  now,  I  have  especially  associated 
two  ideas  with  it.  The  first  of  these  is  this :  It  will 
enlarge  the  locality  of  my  life.  I  am,  as  a  family, 
compelled  to  live  in  too  small  a  house.  I  shall  be 
glad  when  I  can  move  out  of  it  and  have  more  room. 
Death  will  give  me  this  opportunity.  It  will  pass  me 
to  a  nobler  residence.  Beyond  the  grave  I  shall  not 
be  cramped.  My  life  will  not  be  centred  to  one 
spot.  I  shall  get  that  wisdom  which  comes  from 
wide  journeyings,  and  intermingling  with  many.  This 
will  be  a  gain. 

The  other  thought  is  this :  Death  will  be  the  signal 
of  my  passing  from  a  lower  to  a  higher  stage  of  exer- 


DEATH  A  GAIN.  307 

cise  and  development.  Mortality  has  its  motives  ;  but 
they  are  not  such  as  immortality  will  have.  Earth 
has  its  duties  ;  but  they  are.  tame,  indeed,  beside  the 
ministries  which  heaven  imposes.  The  character  of 
our  work  affects  us,  and  man  is  often  small  because 
his  labor  is  ignoble :  but,  when  death  comes,  we  shall 
be  dignified  with  nobler  service  ;  we  shall  be  developed 
along  a  higher  range  of  effort ;  we  shall  all  have  the 
bearing  and  vesture  of  princes  when  we  serve  in  the 
King's  house. 

If  you  say,  "How  know  you  this?  the  future  is 
unknown,"  I  reply,  The  future  is,  in  truth,  unknown, 
and  hence  largely  uncertain;  but  that  there  is  a 
realm  peopled  with  life  ahead  of  us,  we  feel  and  are 
assured.  Nor  are  its  laws  and  privileges  entirely  hid- 
den. That  it  is  populous,  we  know;  for  multitudes 
were  there  before  the  birth  of  man,  and  multitudes 
are  daily  passing  into  it.  The  names  of  all  the  living 
are  found  among  the  dead.  Each  household  is  repre- 
sented. They  go  singly,  in  couples,  in  groups,  in  cir- 
cles, in  clouds,  like  birds  that  move  on  separately  in 
calm,  and  anon  are  blown  along  in  crowds  by  the 
great  winds.  There  is  not  a  spot  upon  the  earth 
which  has  not  been  the  starting-point  for  some  up- 
ward-going spirit.  In  the  lone  valley,  beneath  the 
shade  of  cypress,  the  weary  and  bewildered  hunter 
has  lain  him  down  and  slept ;  and',  leaving  there  his 
body  on  the  mosses,  himself  did  journey  up  out  of 
the  fog,  and  make  his  neighborhood  amid  the  everlast- 
ing stars.  From  the  surf-beaten  beach  and  the  white 
terror  of  underlying  reefs,  from  battle-fields  where 


308  DEATH  A  GAIN. 

life  was  flung  away  as  if  it  had  no  value,  from  pal- 
ace-couch and  cottage-bed,  from  study  and  street, 
from  every  locality  beneath  that  rolling  sun,  men 
have  gone  up  to  God.  And  all  these  —  the  strong, 
the  passionate,  the  loving — took  all  their  powers  and 
feelings  with  them.  Upon  the  smaller  the  larger  life 
was  on  the  instant  grafted.  They  did  find  their 
growth  "  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye."  They  were  all 
changed  as  the  bud  is  changed  when  it  blossoms,  as 
the  sun  is  changed  when  it  sails  out  from  behind  the 
veil  of  the  eclipse.  There  was  no  lapse  of  power,  no 
interruption  of  the  faculties,  no  cessation  of  thought, 
no  ebb  to  the  majestic  current  of  their  lives,  in  death. 
We  touch  the  lowest  tide-mark  in  dying ;  and  from 
that  point  our  lives  know  only  an  eternal  flood. 
They  went,  not  shorn,  meagre,  unattended,  but  circled 
round  about  and  braced  with  faculties  and  powers. 
They  took  their  friendships  with  them,  even  as  we, 
when  journeying  to  foreign  parts,  take  ours  with  us, 
and  find  they  thrive  even  in  absence.  They  took 
their  loves  into  that  other  world,  even  as  the  sun  takes 
all  his  beams  at  setting  with  him  into  another  hemi- 
sphere. They  took  their  strength  of  feeling  with 
them,  their  yearning  and  their  craving,  their  prayer 
for  fulness,  — that  life-long  prayer  rising  up  from  out 
our  felt  emptiness  ;  the  one  prayer  that  God  has 
never  answered,  and  may  not  until  we  stand  in  his 
actual  presence,  behold  him  as  a  parted  child  his  re- 
gained father,  and  so  are  filled.  They  took,  in  brief, 
all  that  in  birth  he  gave  them,  and  stood  before  Him 
who  made  them  as  he  made  them,  —  full  men  and 
women. 


DEATH  A  GAIN. 


309 


To  me  the  spirit-world  is  tangible.  It  is  not 
peopled  with  ghosts  and  spectres,  shadows  and  out- 
lines of  being,  but  with  persons  and  forms  palpable 
to  the  apprehension.  Its  multitudes  are  veritable,  its 
society  natural,  its  language  audible,  its  companion- 
ships real,  its  loves  distinct,  its  activities  energetic,  its 
life  intelligent,  its  glory  discernible  :  its  union  is  not 
that  of  sameness,  but  of  variety  brought  into  moral 
harmony  by  the  great  law  of  love,  like  notes,  which, 
in  themselves  distinct  and  different,  make,  when  com- 
bined, sweet  music.  Death  will  not  level  and  annul 
those  countless  differences  of  mind  and  heart  which 
make  us  individual  here.  Heaven,  in  all  the  mode 
and  manner  of  expression,  will  abound  with  personal- 
ity. There  will  be  choice  and  preference  and  degrees 
of  affinity  there.  Each  intellect  will  keep  its  natural 
bias,  each  heart  its  elections.  Groups  there  will  be, 
and  circles  ;  faces,  known  and  unknown,  will  pass  us  ; 
acquaintance  will  thrive  on  intercourse,  and  love 
deepen  with  knowledge;  and  the  great  underlying 
laws  of  mind  and  heart  prevail  and  dominate  as  they 
do  here,  save  in  this,  —  that  sin,  and  all  the  repellence 
and  antagonisms  that  it  breeds,  will  be  unknown,  and 
holiness  supply  in  perfect  measure  the  opportunity 
and  bond  of  brotherhood. 

My  friends,  I  speak,  not  out  of  Scripture,  but  out 
of  reason  and  hope,  in  this ;  and  yet  it  may  not  be 
amiss  should  thought  be  quickened  in  you,  and  your 
eyes  be  made  somewhat  familiar,  by  gazing  through 
even  an  imperfect  medium,  with  that  unvisited  land 
toward  which  the  passing  of  each  day,  each  hour,  each 


310  DEATH  A  GAIN. 

moment  even,  is  surely  bringing  us.  There  should 
be,  there  must  be,  some  settled  faith  in  us  upon  this 
subject,  else  who  could  bear  the  wrench  of  separation 
and  the  sorrows  of  life  ?  I  shall  lie  down,  I  know,  in 
death ;  but  my  powers  will  not  decay :  for  if  these 
perish,  then  do  I  perish ;  for  they  are  of  me,  and  with- 
out them  I  am  not.  My  body  shall  know  corruption. 
It  shall  become  familiar  with  the  changes  of  the  ele- 
ments of  which  it  is.  It  shall  go  back  and  mingle 
with  its  native  dust.  It  shall  float  upon  the  wind,  a 
part  of  it.  It  shall  take  new  forms,  and  feel  the  heat 
of  summer  and  the  touch  of  frost.  It  shall  dissolve, 
and  be  not,  save  as  it  lives  in  the  changeful  round  and 
passages  of  the  material  world.  But  I  shall  never 
change  save  with  the  changes  of  growth,  —  of  addition 
and  expansion.  Within  me  is  what  the  dust  could 
never  make,  the  dust  can  never  claim,  —  hope,  feeling, 
impulse,  and  the  strong  onsweeping  power  of  thought 
which  channels  the  great  universe  of  mind  with  the 
movement  of  an  inexhaustible  and  ever-increasing 
force.  This  will  flow  on  forever,  when  worlds  have 
perished,  and  the  races  that  peopled  them,  in  their 
material  forms,  have  passed  away.  This  something 
in  me  which  makes  me  nobler  than  the  brute  ;  which 
gives  me  seat  and  rank  in  the  great  parliament  ruled 
by  the  highest  life  ;  which  makes  my  -body  but  an 
accident,  and  my  stay  on  earth  but  as  a  night  which  a 
traveller  passes  at  an  inn,  —  this  shall  never  lie  down, 
I  say,  with  the  material  form  it  now  ennobles  by  its 
indwelling;  but  it  shall  stand  erect,  imperishable,  a 
marvel  of  dignity,  like  that  old  statue  which  faced 


DEATH  A  GAIN.  311 

with  lofty  and  imperturbable  mien  the  east,  and  from 
whose  lips  issued  music  with  the  rising  of  every  sun. 
Years  came  and  went,  and  centuries  grew  apace ; 
tribes  perished ;  cities  rose  and  fell ;  even  empires, 
whose  boast  was  their  duration,  faded :  but  still  the 
statue  stood,  the  same  look  of  chiselled  majesty  upon 
its  face,  the  same  serenity  of  gaze,  and  the  same  audi- 
ble sweetness  greeting  each  dawn  through  its  un- 
touched, unshrivelled,  everlasting  lips. 

And  if  I  change  not,  but  keep  the  integrity  of  my 
being,  what  shall  I  lose?  what  shall  be  riven  from 
me  in  death  ?  Nothing !  I  shall  be  clothed  upon, 
not  stripped.  Enlargement  and  expansion,  not  ex- 
traction and  diminution,  will  come  to  me.  And  the 
social  structure  of  heaven,  as  I  conceive,  so  far  as  it 
relates  to  man,  has  for  its  basis  the  same  powers  and 
capacities,  the  same  aptitudes  aud  affinities,  as  society 
has  here.  Indeed,  I  do  not  picture  the  next  life  so 
vastly  unlike  the  present  as  many  seem  to  do.  The 
good  need  not,  and  can  only,  change  by  the  changes 
of  growth.  We  shall  have  the  same  God  to  adore, 
the  same  Saviour  to  praise,  and  the  same  Spirit  to 
quicken  us,  as  here.  Our  sphere  of  service  will  be 
nobler,  our  powers  larger,  our  loves  deeper  and  holier, 
the  best  within  us  ever  in  ascendency ;  but  in  what 
else  shall  the  good  be  different  ?  All  that  made  life 
sweet,  all  that  made  intercourse  delightful,  all  that 
adorned  us  and  added  grace  and  ornament  to  us,  will 
there  continue.  The  change  will  be  in  the  betterment 
of  our  condition,  in  the  improvement  of  our  circum- 
stances, in  the  increased  occasions  and  opportunities 


312  DEATH  A  GAIN. 

of  our  lives,  rather  than  through  any  revolution  in 
ourselves.  When  I  go  hence,  therefore,  I  shall  take 
all  that  is  dear  and  precious  with  me.  I  shall  not  go 
forth  alone,. but  girt  about  with  friends.  On  one  side 
Memory  will  walk,  her  sensitive  face  alive  with  recol- 
lected mercies ;  on  the  other,  Hope  will  precede  me, 
her  look  prophetic  of  fulness,  like  the  countenance 
of  morning  when  it  feels  the  coming  of  day.  When 
we  strike  our  tents,  friends,  we  shall  take  all  our 
household  gods  with  us.  At  death  we  do  not  begin 
to  live  a  new  life,  but  the  old  one  improved  upon, 
enlarged,  ennobled.  The  tune  will  be  on  the  same 
key ;  but  the  volume  will  be  fuller,  richer,  and  the 
melody  sweeter. 

I  know  to  whom  I  am  speaking  when  I  say  this :  I 
am  speaking  to  men  and  women  who  have  lived  and 
suffered,  rejoiced  and  mourned.  I  know  also  to  what  I 
am  speaking  :  I  am  speaking  to  that  best  part  of  you, 
seldom,  if  ever,  shown  to  the  world,  but  held  up  freely 
in  the  secret  of  your  souls  before  God  ;  to  that  in  you 
which  the  earth  alone  could  never  elicit,  and,  if  it  had 
elicited,  would  never  satisfy.  You  have  not  lived 
thoughtlessly.  There  are  seas  that  ships  cannot  sail 
with  whole  canvas ;  and  there  are  passages  in  life  from 
which  we  come  forth  not  as  we  entered  into  them. 
The  years  back  of  us  are  full  of  voices  eloquent  and 
pathetic.  You  who  have  lived  long  have  stood  over 
the  grave  of  many  an  early  dream.  Success,  when  it 
came,  was  not  what  you  thought  it  would  be  ;  and  even 
that  has  often  been  denied  you.  You  have  eaten  and 
slept  with  disappointment.     You  have  watched  by  the 


DEATH  A  GAIN.  313 

couch  of  many  a  hope,  and  seen  it  fail  and  die.  You 
have  buried  many  a  bright  expectation,  and  laid  the 
memorial-wreath  over  many  a  joy.  When,  alone  by 
yourselves  at  times,  you  close  your  eyes  and  think, 
these  memories  become  oppressive.  Withered  gar- 
Lands  are  there,  and  broken  rings,  and  vases  once 
fragrant  with  flowers,  and  the  white  faces  of  those 
that  sleep.  It  is  hard  to  say  farewell  to  a  hope  that 
has  cheered  us ;  to  unloose  the  clasp  of  what  seemed 
an  undying  friendship  ;  to  see  a  love  sail  away,  and 
sink  its  white  sails  in  the  sea,  regardless  of  our  out- 
stretched hands,  and  white,  surf-beaten  face.  Yet  most 
of  you,  I  suppose,  at  one  or  another  time  of  your  life, 
have  stood  on  that  beach,  and  waded  far  Out  into  its 
deep  sounding  waves,  and  wrung  your  hands  at  part- 
ing with  what  would  nevermore  come  back.  And 
yet,  to  such  as  are  not  crazed  thereby,  such  partings 
and  memories  are  not  vain.  There  are  things  back 
of  us,  known  only  to  Heaven,  which  did  greatly 
shape  our  lives.  There  are  faces,  and  the  pressure  of 
hands,  and  snatches  of  song,  and  the  light  of  long- 
closed  eyes,  and  the  far-distant  murmur  of  solemn 
pra}^er,  which  we  do  treasure  choicely  and  reverently. 
There  be  those  with  faith  enough  to  think  that  by 
and  by  the  old  faces  will  be  seen  once  more,  the  loved 
voices  heard  anew,  and  all  lost  things  will  come  sail- 
ing back  to  us,  like  ships,  which,  parted  by  night 
and  the  swift  stroke  of  tempest,  at  morning,  with  sails 
all  washed,  and  fairer  than  they  went,  come  hurry- 
ing back  to  anchorage  ;  and  they  wait  with  watching 
for  that  day,  and,  like  some  angel  detained  from  his 

14 


314  DEATH  A  GAIN. 

companions,  sit  gazing  with  wistful  eyes  steadfastly 
upward  and  far  ahead. 

For  one,  I  sympathize  with  such.  I  hold,  not  from 
mere  sentiment  and  warmth  of  impulse,  but  from  the 
reason  of  things,  and  what  I  know  of  God,  that,  some- 
where down  the  future,  we  shall  meet  what  we  most 
longed  for,  but  did  miss  in  this  present  life  ;  and  that 
all  I  prayed  for  purely  —  the  answer  being  impossible 
in  this  state  and  world — will  then  and  there  be  given 
me,  and  I  shall  put  my  arms  around  it,  and  have  it  with 
me  as  mine  eternally.  Then  shall  that  knowledge 
which  I  crave,  and  have  not ;  for  which  I  search,  and 
do  not  find,  —  the  knowledge  of  the  First  Cause,  and 
the  intricacies  of  human  destiny  —  be  discovered. 
Then  shall  the  mysteries  of  Providence,  which  with- 
holds where  I  should  grant,  and  permits  where  I 
should  deny,  be  unfolded.  Then  shall  the  uneven 
balance,  which  no  lifting  of  my  faith  can  bring  to 
even  poise,  be  accurately  adjusted,  and  I  shall  see 
why  the  wicked  prosper,  and  the  good  decrease. 
Then  will  the  grim,  stark  mystery  of  sin,  which 
many  explain  so  glibly,  but  which  to  me,  after  all 
my  pondering  and  praying,  only  looms  up  as  the 
great,  ugly,  inexplicable  fact,  which  hangs  like  dread 
eclipse  upon  the  effulgence  of  universal  and  other- 
wise apparent  love,  be  explained.  Then  shall  I  gain 
what  I  have  lost,  and  much  besides,  —  even  what  I 
crave,  and  have  not,  —  and  at  last  be  satisfied. 

No  night  so  long  as  to  endure  forever.  A  dawn 
will  come  at  last,  and  come  in  all  the  flush  of  gold  and 
amber.     Beyond  the  grave,  we  may  not  have  the  or 


DEATH  A  GAIN.  315 

dering  of  our  lot ;  but  we  shall  have  great  liberty  in 
choosing,  —  even  the  liberty  of  the  children  of  God. 
Eternity  will  bring  to  the  good  the  opportunity  of  a 
fresh  start.  We  have  all  blundered  here  more  than 
we  shall  there ;  for  there  we  shall  select  and  discard 
with  a  higher  intelligence  than  we  saw  with  here. 
Our  companionship  will  be  intuitive,  like  that  of 
purity.  We  shall  mate  ourselves  with  whatever  is 
most  kindred  to  us  in  thought,  fibre,  and  feeling.  The 
laws  and  conditions  of  earthly  existence,  of  imperfect 
discernment,  end  at  the  grave.  When  you  and  I,  my 
friends,  stand  on  the  shore  of  that  unsailed  sea,  we 
shall  build  us  new  ships :  some  of  us  will  build  differ- 
ently than  we  did  here,  and  launch  them  in  other 
company.  There,  too,  shall  we  meet  again  the  loved 
and  saintly  who  have  gone  before  us,  from  whom 
we  parted  as  love  parts  with  love  upon  a  beach,  —  with 
lip  pressed  to  lip,  and  hands  slow  to  unclasp.  They 
sailed  off  and  disappeared,  and  the  great  waters  hid 
them  from  sight ;  but  the  hearts  that  waved  their 
signals  back  to  us  as  they  receded  still  beat  in  love 
for  us  as  ours  still  swell  with  love  for  them :  and  when 
we,  too,  have  taken  boat,  and  sailed  off,  and  crossed 
the  sea  of  unknown  width,  whose  steady  level  breaks 
not  in  wave  or  crest  until  it  touches  heaven,  then 
curves  in  whiteness,  and  makes  endless  music  as  it  falls, 
—  then  as  we  stood  on  this,  and  waved  our  parting  love 
to  them,  so  shall  we  behold  them  standing  on  the 
farther  shore  waving  their  welcoming  love  to  us  ;  and 
the  interrupted  intercourse  will  be  renewed,  and  push 
its  lines  of  love  and  sympathy  out  forever.     Heaven 


816  DEATH   A   GAIN. 

would  not  be  heaven  to  me  without  its  faces,  begin- 
ning with  His  who  lifteth  the  light  of  his  counte- 
nance upon  me  now  day  by  day,  and  whose  splendor, 
tempered  to  my  eyes,  will  be  then  my  daily  wonder 
and  delight  down  through  all  the  grades  of  love  to 
the  lowliest  man  that  lives,  for  whom,  as  for  an  un- 
seen and  unmet  brother,  I  have  prayed.  They  must 
all  be  there,  I  say,  —  all  needed  by  my  heart,  as  the 
sun  needs  every  object  on  the  earth  to  elicit  its 
warmth ;  as  the  earth  needs  every  ray  of  light  to  help 
its  growth  by  day,  and  change  its  gloom  and  dread  by 
night  to  splendor.  That  they'  will  be  there  I  make 
no  doubt.  Love  is  of  God,  and  with  him  it  shall  live. 
It  is  the  endless  music  of  the  universe,  the  perfume 
that  makes  the  body  of  the  atmosphere  which  angels 
breathe.  The  melody  shall  continue,  and  the  air  keep 
its  sweet  vitality.  The  world  of  spirits  is  populous  ; 
and  we  shall  go  into  numberless  companionships  when 
we  enter  it.  In  it  is  the  great  city  full  of  mansions 
built  and  mansions  being  builded.  They  are  being 
fitted  up  and  prepared  ceaselessly.  The  city  grows 
with  the  growth  of  God's  plan  of  redeeming  man. 
The  space  between  it  and  earth  is  white  with  the 
passage  of  spirits  passing  in.  They  come  pouring  into 
it  "from  the  dark  earth  as  white  doves  come  streaming 
homeward  when  chased  by  tempest,  their  pure  forms 
strongly  marked  against  the  black  clouds.  Thus  it  is 
being  filled  and  peopled  bya"  great  multitude  that  no 
man  can  number."  From  such  beings  the  play  and 
exercise  of  the  affections  cannot  be  separated.  You 
cannot  conceive  of  them  as  not  min^linix  and  inter- 


DEATH   A   GAIN.  317 

changing  their  loves  one  for  another.  A  language 
adapted  to  their  wants,  to  their  services,  to  their  ever- 
increasing  powers,  will  be  theirs  ;  and  themes  too  high 
for  mortal  thought  will  engage  their  minds.  Nor  will 
lesser  and  sweeter  themes  be  wanting ;  for  the  hap- 
piness of  the  children  will  be  the  joy  and  pride  of  the 
all-protecting  Father.  O  friends  !  will  it  not  be  gain 
to  die,  if  dying  will  bring  us  to  such  ?  Oh  for  the  day 
when  we  shall  come  to  some  one  of  the  many  groups  ; 
when  we  shall  join  the  perfect  spirits  of  the  skies, 
know  them,  and  be  known  of  them  !  What  discove- 
ries will  in  that  hour  be  made  !  what  greetings  given 
and  received  !  what  sweet  surprises  be  experienced  ! 
for  many  will  .be  there  whom  we  did  not  expect  to 
see.  Heaven  will  not  be  like  a  strange  place,  but  like 
our  home  from  which  we  had  been  detained  :  for  we 
shall  see,  not  strangers,  but  old  familiar  faces  ;  and 
faces  never  by  us  seen  before  will  be  known  instantly 
by  us,  by  that  law  of  subtile,  spiritual  recognition  by 
which  spirits  know  each  other  everywhere,  even  as 
they  know  and  are  known  instantly  of  God ;  and 
heaven  will  be  in  its  sights  and  sounds  and  greetings 
a  great  home-gathering  to  us  who  enter  it. 

My  friends,  I  am  not  tired  of  earthly  life  beyond 
what  all  men,  fitted  for  the  life  to  come,  at  times  are 
weary  of  it.  I  love  it  in  its  uses,  its  labors,  and  its 
joys.  Its  duties  give  exercise  to  my  faculties,  its 
loves  to  my  affections,  its  successes  to  my  happiness. 
I  am  not  morbid,  but  sense  the  world  through  a 
healthy  body,  a  growing  mind,  and  a  hope  as  strong 
and  bracing  as  a  current  of  northern  air  when  it  bears 


318  DEATH  A  GAIN. 

down  upon  a  camp  from  the  sides  of  mountains  planted 
thickly  with  odorous  trees.  The  pulse  of  this  life  is 
strong  within  me,  my  friends  many,  and  my  fortune 
beyond  my  merit  or  my  expectation.  I  am  not  talk- 
ing- to  you  as  a  disappointed,  a  depressed,  an  nnhappy 
man.  Keeping  only  what  I  have,  blessed  only  with 
my  present  blessings,  I  could  stay  on  earth  forever  if 
it  be  God's  will,  and  be  content.  But,  in  spite  of  all 
this,  when  my  thoughts  range  out  ahead,  and  canvass 
my  future,  I  can  but  feel  persuaded  that  the  present, 
precious  as  it  is,  does  not  begin  to  measure  the  re- 
sources of  blessing  hidden  in  the  heart  of  God  for  me. 
My  present  state  does  not  permit  me  their  full  recep- 
tion ;  does  not  allow  the  perfect  disclosure  of  his  love. 
I  need  the  spiritual  body,  the  heavenly  language,  the 
celestial  sphere  of  action,  the  holy  companionships, 
the  powers  and  functions,  the  rank  and  dignity,  the 
privilege  and  liberty,  of  the  glorified  world  and  state, 
or  ever  I  shall  know  the  breadth  and  length  and 
depth  and  height  of  the  riches  of  his  love  ;  and  I 
feel  persuaded,  that  by  the  very  drift  and  movement 
of  time  I  am  being  borne  toward,  and  at  last  shall 
come  to,  something  far  better  than  the  good  of  to-day. 
I  am  often  asked  if  we  shall  know  our  friends 
in  heaven ;  if  the  old  loves  will  abide,  and  the  ties 
formed  on  earth  endure.  I  cannot  doubt  it.  What 
is  there  in  death  to  shock  the  coherence  of  these 
bonds,  or  sunder  the  cords  that  bind  us  to  our  loved 
ones  ?  You  can  tell  if  aught  there  be  ;  for  you  have 
stood  and  seen  the  gentle  die.  You  have  seen  their 
closing  eyes  grow  luminous  with  an  immortal  light. 


DEATH   A  GAIN.  319 

You  have  seen  the  lips,  that  quivered  to  say  the  long 
farewell,  part  even  in  saying  it  with  a  heavenly  smile. 
You  could  not  hold  them  back  or  keep  them  from 
their  rest.  You  lost  in  losing  them  what  made  life 
rich ;  but  they  had  come  to  the  borders  of  a  mighty 
gain,  and  entered  in  and  took  possession  of  their  im- 
mortality, not,  as  they  had  thought,  with  shrinking,  but 
with  joy.  It  was  not  in  your  hearts  to  hinder  them. 
You  only  stood  and  prayed,  while  tears  rained  down 
your  face,  that  you  might  be  remembered  from  out 
their  mansions  amid  the  everlasting  light.  You  are 
remembered.  They  are  like  God  ;  and,  like  him,  they 
bear  you  evermore  in  mind.  Heaven  never  forgets. 
"  Are  they  not  all  ministering  spirits,  sent  forth  to 
minister  for  them  who  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation  ?  " 
We  live  like  stars  in  constellation,  and  move  on  in 
groups.  Resolve  the  race  into  its  constituent  parts, 
by  nations,  by  tribes,  by  families,  and  you  find  that 
the  universal  symbol  is  the  circle.  A  little  cordon  of 
clasped  hands  represents  the  whole.  The  race  began 
in  incompleteness,  and  was  made  perfect  in  two.  We 
flock  naturally,  we  group,  we  cluster ;  and  the  higher 
we  are  carried  up  in  development,  the  closer  are  we 
drawn  together.  When  we  touch  the  perfect  love,  we 
are  inseparable.  Death  does  not  suspend  the  action 
of  this  organic  law  of  life  in  man  :  never  think  so.  Do 
angels  stand  apart,  isolate  each  from  the  other? 
Shall  we  diverge,  when,  like  so  many  suns,  we  rise 
above  the  mountains,  and  the  outrayings  of  our  lives 
find  at  last  a  level  and  an  endless  range  ?  No  :  we 
shall  come  nigher  than  before  ;  our  union  then  will  be 


3'JO  DEATH   A  GAIN. 

the  union  of  kindred  elements ;  and  God  to  all  our 
loves  will  be  even  what  the  air  is  to  music.  He  will 
receive  them  all  into  his  bosom,  be  thrilled  by  them, 
and  pass  them  on,  he  being  a  perfect  medium  for- 
ever. 

My  friends,  there  is  another  and  a  higher  gain,  un- 
mentioned  as  yet,  which  the  Christian  will  receive  in 
dying.  It  is  the  spiritual  gain  ;  the  gain  of  the  so  ul ; 
the  gain  of  the  spirit ;  of  those  pure,  strong,  immor- 
tal forces  of  thought  and  observation  in  us  which  re- 
late directly  to  God.  Of  this  I  cannot  speak  unless 
I  claim  a  knowledge  I  do  not  have.  The  physical 
gain  I  can  appreciate ;  the  mental  understand ;  the 
social,  through  the  imagination,  at  least  dimly  con- 
ceive of :  but  of  the  gain  which  the  soul  of  man  re- 
ceives in  dying,  I  know,  and  can  know,  nothing.  I 
might  as  well  attempt  to  gain  a  knowledge  of  the  sun 
by  gazing  at  it  with  my  unassisted  eye.  Its  glory 
blinds  me ;  its  going-forth  is  too  mighty  for  me.  I 
drop  my  gaze  perforce,  and  find  relief  in  a  lower 
range  of  vision.  The  meeting  of  spirit  with  spirit,  — 
of  all  spirits  with  the  one  parental  Spirit,  —  who  can 
conceive  of  it?  We  know  what  it  is  when  mind 
meets  mind,  when  heart  meets  heart ;  and  here  and 
there  two  may  be  found  whose  souls  lia~,  c  been  united. 
They  apprehend  each  the  other's  thought  instinctive- 
ly, as  we  shall  apprehend  the  thoughts  of  God  when 
fit  in  purity  for  their  reception.  They  judge  by  intui- 
tions, as  we  shall  judge  when  brought  in  sympathetic 
connection  with  the  divine  nature.  They  mutually 
appropriate  and  possess  the  other,  even  as  Jehovah 


DEATH  A  GAIN.  321 

sweeps  within  the  circle  of  his  affection  all  whom  he 
loves.  Their  union  is  not  of  law,  nor  yet  of  love 
alone :  it  is  of  essence  with  essence,  of  two  lives 
mated  for  two  worlds,  of  two  intelligences  joined  fur 
two  spheres.  A  union  like  this  —  based  not  on  name 
nor  law  nor  love  —  shall  outlive  these,  and  lift  itself 
above  the  wreck  of  mere  temporal  relations,  —  even  as 
some  majestic  column  stands  above  the  ruins  of  a  city 
shaken  into  fragments  by  an  earthquake, — sole,  im- 
pressive, indestructible,  in  heaven.  So  shall  the  soul 
of  man  be  in  its  union  with  God.  What  rank,  what 
dignity,  what  privilege  and  majesty,  will  it  not  bring 
to  us !  I  stand  in  awe  before  the  expectation.  It 
rises  on  my  faith  as  a  city  seen  from  a  mountain  at 
sunrise  shines  out  from  amid  the  mists,  —  spires  and 
roofs  of  gold  from  out  a  crimson  sea.  So  heaven 
seems  to  me.  So  seems  the  hour  of  meeting  God. 
O  soul !  be  still.  Canst  thou  not  bear  the  yoke  one 
hour,  and  not  complain  ?  Is  it  not  enough  that  thou 
shalt  surely  come  at  last  to  rest  and  him  ? 

I  stood  with  friends  this  summer  upon  a  beach,  after 
a  day  of  storm,  inhaling  the  cool  air  and  the  wild  odors, 
when  suddenly,  upon  my  right  hand  and  my  left,  a  crim- 
son mist  arose,  floated  lightly  upward,  and  formed  a 
bow.  We  gazed  and  gazed  as  if  we  stood  beneath  the 
porch  of  heaven.  Its  either  base  was  not  a  hundred 
feet  from  where  we  stood,  the  central  section  of  its 
dome  directly  over  our  head.  Even  then,  as  we  were 
gazing  at  its  suspended  beauty,  a  current  of  air  came 
out  of  the  west,  and  put  its  pressure  upon  the  chan- 
ging dyes  ;  and,  keeping  its  perfect  outline,  it  floated 

14* 


622  DEATH  A  GAIN. 

across  the  lake,  enlarging  as  it  went.  It  pushed  its 
bases  out,  and  lifted  up  its  dome,  as  if  angels  were 
heaving  underneath  it,  until  its  base  extended  miles, 
and  the  majestic  mountain  stood  beneath  its  arch  of 
matchless  color ;  and  there  it  hung,  a  frame  of  crim- 
son dyes  around  the  hills,  while  all  its  glory  was  re- 
flected from  the  lake  beneath.  So,  once  again  I  say, 
shall  be  to  me  this  hope  of  gain  in  dying.  From  a 
boy  I  dreamed  of  immortality,  —  of  something  larger 
and  nobler  ahead.  The  aspiration  existed  before  I 
came  to  Christ.  Faith  in  him  did  not  beget  the  long- 
ing :  it  only  revealed  the  mode  and  method  of  its 
realization.  It  grew  upon  my  right  hand  and  my  left, 
— a  mist  of  faith  and  love  and  deathless  impulse.  It 
formed  itself  even  out  of  tears.  It  widened  out  its 
side,  and  lifted  up  its  dome,  as  I  advanced  in  years, 
and  floated  off  until  it  swept  my  life  within  its  bases, 
and  spanned  the  future,  arching  it  with  radiance. 
And  there,  my  friends,  it  hangs  to-day,  the  hills  of 
heaven  underneath  it,  and  the  mystic  sea  before  the 
throne  giving  back  its  every  hue  ;  while  from  out  its 
dome,  as  from  a  far-off  distance,  the  bells  of  the  un- 
seen city,  seen  never  by  the  living,  set  in  sweetest 
chime,  send  out  their  notes,  —  a  hymn  of  praise  that 
never  ends,  and  gains  in  sweetness  as  it  swells. 


SABBATH  MOBJfHVQ,  SEPT.  17,  1871. 


SERMON. 


TOPIC- BUSINESS-LIFE:    ITS  USES  AND   DANGERS. 
"Not  slothful  in  business."— Rom.  xii.  11. 

IF  one  would  understand  how  wide  the  New  Tes- 
tament is  in  its  application  to  human  affairs,  how 
practical  and  matter-of-fact  in  its  requirements,  how 
far  removed  from  the  realm  of  speculation  and  mere 
philosophizing,  he  has  only  to  read  this  twelfth  chap- 
ter of  Romans.  The  religion  of  the  New  Testament 
is  a  religion  which  relates  to  the  smallest  detail 
of  conduct.  Instead  of  its  being  a  religion  of  the 
emotions  alone,  it  touches  these  only  that  it  may  the 
more  surely  affect  the  practice.  Here  in  this  chapter 
the  inspired  writer  runs  over  the  entire  scale  of 
Christian  duty,  touching  almost  every  key.  He 
seems  to  cover  almost  every  possible  contingency  of 
conduct,  leaving  nothing  in  the  way  of  direction  for  a 
good  man  to  desire. 

I  have  spoken  to  you  from  several  of  these  passages 
already ;  and  this  morning  I  wish  to  offer  certain  sug- 
gestions from  the  words  I  have  recited  as  my  text : 
"  Not  slothful  in  business*" 

323 


324    BUSINESS-LIFE:    ITS  USES   AND   DANGERS. 

The  Word  of  God,  in  all  its  expressions,  is  direct 
against  laziness.  It  is  said  in  the  Proverbs,  that  "  the 
way  of  the  slothful  man  is  as  a  hedge  of  thorns,"  and 
that  "  the  desire  of  the  slothful  killeth  him."  In 
the  twenty-fifth  chapter  of  Matthew  we  have  the 
picture  of,  and  the  condemnation  pronounced  upon, 
the  "  wicked  and  slothful  servant ;  "  and  here  in  the 
text  is  the  express  command,  "  Be  not  slothful." 

Many  reasons  might  be  adduced  to  account  for  the 
strong  expressions  in  the  Bible  touching  this  habit. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  God  regards  laziness 
as  a  sin  in  itself.  Indolence  is  one  form  of  vice.  The 
idle  hour  is  the  Devil's  opportunity.  What  a  splendid 
opportunity  some  people  give  him  !  Non-employment 
of  the  mind  and  the  sympathies  prevent  reformation. 
The  way  to  drive  out  wicked  imaginations  is,  not  by 
endeavoring  to  stop  thinking,  but  by  a  substitution  of 
good,  for  evil  thoughts.  Nor  is  there  any  way  which 
leads  to  happiness  other  than  through  the  exercise 
of  the  emotions  and  faculties  given  us  of  God.  Pleas- 
ure of  all  kind  is  found  in  the  movement,  and  not 
stagnation,  of  the  faculties.  Thought  itself  is  action  ; 
and  to  say  that  one  is  happy  is  to  say  that  his  sensi- 
bilities are  in  a  state  of  delightful  exercise. 

There  is  this  further  thought  which  I  wish  to  sugt- 
gest  to  you  in  this  connection  :  it  is  this  :  We  are  to 
strive  by  diligent  attention  to  excel  in  the  duties  of 
our  particular  calling.  If  a  bird  wishes  to  reach  a 
given  point  in  the  shortest  possible  space  of  time,  it 
must  not  zig-zag ;  it  must  not  fly  in  half-circles  or 
curves,  or  swoop  up  and  down :  it  must  so  aim  and 


BUSINESS-LIFE  :    ITS  USES   AND  DANGERS      325 

balance  itself,  that  every  stroke  of  its  wings  shall  pro 
ject  it  in  a  straight  line.  Now,  there  are  a  great, 
many  men  who  do  business  in  a  zig-zag,  eccentric 
kind  of  a  way.  They  fly,  now  toward  this  point,  now 
toward  that ;  they  are  fickle,  changeful,  and  intermit- 
tent ;  they  never  settle  down  to  any  one  thing ;  they 
never  make  every  nerve  and  faculty  tell  in  one 
straight  line.  They  are  forever  mixing  themselves  up 
in  outside  matters,  ventures,  speculations,  and  wild 
schemes.  Now,  friends,  this  sort  of  thing  will  not 
do.  Such  a  road  is  too  crooked,  too  full  of  pitfalls,  to 
advance  a  man  toward  the  fullest  measure  of  success, 
whether  you  gauge  success  by  the  low  or  the  high 
level  of  measurement.  The  world  has  advanced  so 
far  already,  its  industries  are  so  wide  and  various, 
the  laws  that  govern  them  are  so  intricate,  the  cir- 
cumstances which  dictate  success  are  so  changeful, 
that  no  one  man  can  master  them  all.  One  branch  of 
business  is  as  much  as  one  head  can  manage  well  at 
a  time  :  one  life  is  none  too  long  to  acquire  the  needed 
experience.  The  great  vineyard  of  human  activity 
is  mapped  out  into  sections ;  and  one  section  is 
all  any  of  you  can  cultivate  thoroughly  at  a  time. 
The  age  does  not  allow  of  Admirable  Crichtons,  — 
men  who  know  every  thing,  and  can  do  every  thing 
superlatively  well.  If  a  man  is  a  ship-builder,  he 
need  not  go  outside  of  his  trade  to  find  room  and 
necessity  for  all  his  talents  and  time  :  if  a  house- 
builder,  he  must  give  his  entire  attention  to  the  con- 
ditions which  underlie  success  in  that  branch  of  in- 
dustry:  if  a  preacher,  then  let  him  remember  that 


326    BUSINESS-LIFE:    ITS  USES  AND  DANGERS. 

preachers  do  not  grow  spontaneously ;  that  he  must 
devote  the  best  years  of  his  life  to  the  art  and  toil, 
until  his  head  whitens,  before  he  can  feel  that  the 
gospel  receives  a  fit  utterance  through  his  lips.  The 
preacher  must  press  the  richest  juices  of  his  life  out 
in  his  study,  if  he  would  have  his  ministrations  like 
rich  wine  to  the  hearts  and  souls  of  his  hearers.  There 
is  no  such  thing,  there  never  will  be  such  a  thing 
again,  as  general  knowledge.  All  knowledge  hence- 
forth will  be  specific.  All  students  must  be  special- 
ists. An  engineer  must  be  an  engineer,  and  feel, 
that,  in  the  perfect  knowledge  of  and  control  over  the 
magnificent  power  intrusted  to  his  hands,  he  has 
mounted  to  a  throne,  and  holds  a  terrible  sceptre. 
An  engineer  said  to  me  the  other  night  as  I  sat  in 
the  driving-house,  and  watched  him  while  he  sent  his 
engine  flying  into  the  fog  and  darkness  at  the  rate  of 
fifty  miles  an  hour,  —  "  It  is  not  enough,"  said  he,  put- 
ting his  lips  to  my  ear,  and  shouting,  so  that  I  might 
hear  his  words  amid  the  thundering  din,  —  "  it  is  not 
enough  that  I  should  have  an  eye-knowledge  of  this 
engine  :  I  must  have  an  ear-knowledge  of  it.  And," 
i  continued  he  as  we  rolled  up  to  the  junction,  "  there 
is  not  a  screw,  a  bolt,  a  valve,  or  any  part  of  this  en- 
gine, which,  should  it  get  out  of  its  place,  and  I  were 
blindfolded,  I  could  not  instantly  detect  it  with  my 
j  ear.  I  tell  you,  sir,"  he  added,  "  a  man  must  under- 
'  stand  his  business  when  he  undertakes  to  carry  safely 
seven  hundred  souls  so  near  eternity  as  an  engine 
rolls." 

That  is  it,  friends :  a  man  must  understand  his  busi- 
ness if  he  is  to  escane  risk  in  any  thin 


no* 


BUSINESS-LIFE:    ITS   USES  AND  DANGERS.     827# 

Now,  I  am  of  those  who  believe,  that,  provided 
his  election  was  right,  and  his  business  or  profession 
is  adapted  to  his  capacities,  a  man  will,  on  the  whole, 
do  the  most  good  by  concentrating  all  his  energies 
along  the  line  of  his  choice.  Whatever  his  trade  is, 
let  him  master  his  trade,  or  come  just  as  near  mas- 
tering it»as  a  short  life  will  allow  one  to  do.  The 
fact  is,  one  life  is  not  long  enough  to  master  any 
thing  thoroughly.  The  poet  is  only  ready  to  begin  to 
sing  when  death  pats  a  seal  upon  his  lips,  and  forbids 
farther  music  forever.  So  Whittier,  like  an  instru- 
ment Avhose  keys  have  only  just  mellowed  into  rich- 
ness, but  whose  frame  is  just  ready  to  fall  in  pieces, 
sings  to-day.  How  often  have  we  felt  like  saying  of 
him  and  others,  "  Oh  that  his  tuneful  soul  might  not 
be  called  hence  as  yet,  but  be  clothed  upon  with  a 
younger  and  stronger  body  !  —  what  melody  would 
the  world  hear  in  the  next  fifty  years  !  "  So  it  is  with 
man  through  the  whole  range  of  activity.  The  man 
of  business  must  stop  in  the  midst  of  his  plans  ;  the 
preacher  cease  to  plead  when  knowledge  has  ripened, 
and  soul  been  sanctified  for  a  perfect  utterance  ;  the 
physician  and  surgeon,  having  toiled  for  fifty  years, 
must  bow  to  the  inevitable  mandate  when  most  fitted 
to  benefit  man  :  and  the  saying  is  a  truism,  that  one 
life  is  scarcely  ample  enough  to  learn  one  trade. 

Now,  friends,  I  hold  it  to  be  a  prime  obligation 
resting  on  every  man,  to  succeed,  up  to  the  fullest 
measure  of  that  success  which  is  possible  to  him,  in 
life.  Success  is  not  only  pleasant :  it  is  a  duty.  Look 
at  man  along  whatever  range  of  faculties,  and  you 


*  328     BUSINESS-LIFE  :    ITS  USES  AND  DANGERS. 

will  see  in  the  perfect  equipment  of  capacity,  in  the 
presence  of  every  necessary  energy,  the  obligation  to 
succeed.  In  the  wings  of  a  bird,  you  see  that  the 
Maker  has  suggested  flight ;  in  the  build  of  a  dog 
and  horse,  speed ;  in  the  ox,  strength.  And  so,  through 
all  the  grades  of  life,  God,  in  the  organization,  in  the 
capacities  bestowed,  has  pointed  out  the  mode  and 
result  of  life.  But  in  man  this  is  more  observable. 
Look  at  yourself,  my  friend,  in  your  faculties,  in  your 
endowments  by  nature,  and  see  in  the  liberal,  I  had 
almost  said,  nay,  I  will  say,  in  the  superabundant 
resources  of  your  organization,  the  suggestion,  yea, 
the  command,  of  your  Maker.  All  the  elements  and 
means  necessary  to  success  in  any  branch  of  worthy 
industry,  in  any  line  of  noble  ambition,  are  in  you. 
A  young  man  has  no  right  to  fail  in  life.  It  may  not 
be  his  duty  to  succeed  in  the  direction  and  to  the 
extent  that  his  ambition  may  suggest ;  for  ignorance 
may  misdirect,  and  vanity  exaggerate :  but  it  is  his 
duty  to  succeed  in  that  direction,  and  to  that  extent, 
in  which  his  natural  capacities  point  and  make  pos- 
sible. 

Society  is  full  of  failures  that  need  never  have  been 
made  ;  full  of  men  who  have  never  succeeded,  when 
they  might  have,  and  should  have,  succeeded  ;  full  of 
women,  who,  in  the  first  half  of  their  days,  did  noth- 
ing but  eat  and  sleep  and  simper,  and  in  the  last  half 
have  done  nothing  but  perpetuate  their  follies  and 
weaknesses.  The  world  is  full,  I  say,  of  such  people  ; 
full  of  men  in  every  trade  and  profession  who  do  not 
amount  to  any  thing,  and  of  girls  and  women  without 


BUSINESS-LIFE  :    ITS  USES   AND  DANGERS.     329 

any  trade  or  profession  who  have  no  desire  to  amount 
to  any  thing :  and  I  do  not  speak  irreverently,  and,  I 
trust,  not  without  due  charity,  without  making  due 
allowance  for  the  inevitable  in  life,  when  I  say  that 
God  and  thoughtful  men  are  weary  of  their  presence. 
Every  boy  ought  to  improve  on  his  father  ;  every  girl 
grow  into  a  nobler,  gentler,  more  self-denying  woman- 
hood than  the  mother.  No  reproduction  of  former 
types  will  give  the  world  the  perfect  type.  I  know 
not  where  the  millennium  is,  as  measured  by  distance 
of  time  ;  but  I  do  know,  and  so  do  you  all,  that  it  is  a 
great  way  off  as  measured  by  human  growth  and 
expansion.  We  have  no  such  men  and  women  yet, 
no  age  has  ever  had  any,  as  shall  stand  on  the  earth 
in  that  age  of  peace  that  will  not  come  until  men 
are  worthy  of  it. 

I  do  not  know  what  you  think  of  that  millennial 
period,  or  how  you  are  accustomed  to  picture  it  to 
your  minds :  but  I  have  sometimes  thought,  by  the 
prayers  and  sermons  I  have  heard  containing  allu- 
sions to  it,  that  the  majority  of  people  pictured  it  as 
a  period  when  everybody  shall  take  a  kind  of  recess 
from  their  ordinary  work,  and  go  walking  up  and 
down,  or  lying  about  in  groups  with  their  eyes  fast- 
ened on  the  heavens,  kindly  disposed  to  each  other, 
doing  no  work,  and  having  a  good  time  generally. 

Now,  that  is  not  my  conception  of  the  millennium. 
I  do  not  believe  in  the  recess  idea.  There  will  be  no 
let-up  to  human  activities,  no  dropping  of  ordinary 
work,  no  change  of  -salutary  employment.  The  dif- 
ference will  not  lie  in  such  things.  '  There  will  be  just 
1* 


330     BUSINESS-LIFE:    ITS  USES  AND  DANGEES. 

as  many  banks  then  as  now  (and  not  many  more, 
I  hope)  ;  but  the  officers  will  all  be  honest  men. 
Railroad  companies  will  run  their  trains  as  often  as 
they  do  to-day ;  the  difference  being,  that  conductors 
will  be  paid  better  salaries,  and  not  be  tempted  so 
much,  as  they  are  now,  to  steal. 

I  believe  that  all  our  faculties,  that  every  energy, 
every  force,  every  industry,  will  be  in  the  state  of  the 
highest  exercise.  The  sea^will  never  be  so  white 
with  sails,  the  earth  never  resound  with  the  hum  of 
such  swift  activity,  never  will  the  bustle  of  business 
be  so  loud,  never  men  so  active,  as  when  the  light  of 
that  blessed,  that  long-anticipated  period  shall  dawn. 
When  every  man  is  honest,  every  government  just, 
every  power  for  good  utilized,  every  purpose  honora- 
ble, every  motive  pure,  the  world  will  be  ready  to 
welcome  the  Lord.  As  it  is  with  man,  so  will  it  be 
with  the  race.  Growth  into  the  moral  likeness  of 
God  means  growth  into  the  moral  activities  of  God. 
Holiness  knows  no  rest,  no  pause,  in  the  outgoings 
of  its  benevolence.  Increase  in  personal  goodness 
means  the  better  direction  of  personal  power,  influ- 
ence, and  energy.  The  angels  of  God  find  rest  in 
flight.  They  are  his  messengers  ;  and  heaven  to  them 
is  to  do  his  bidding.  And  so  it  is  and  must  be  with 
those  who  live  in  sympathy  with  him  on  earth ;  who 
have  been  breathed  upon  by  him,  and  feel  themselves 
inspired  to  do  deeds  fitting  such  inspiration.  To  do 
his  will,  to  serve  him,  and,  in  serving  him,  serve  man, 
both  day  and  night,  is  not  merely  their  delight :  it  is 
the  law  of  their  lives.     It  is  the  most  real  result  of 


BUSINESS-LIFE:    ITS  USES  AND  DANGERS.    331 

the  new  birth ;  the  peculiar,  the  unmistakable  mark 
which  proves  their  connection  with  the  Deity.  The 
voice  of  Christianity  is  and  will  forever  be  heard  cry- 
ing for  work.  It  will  ring  through  all  the  a^es  ahead, 
riding  the  air  clear  as  a  bugle-note,  swelling  in  vol- 
ume as  it  rolls.  It  will  expand  on  all  sides,  sending 
oat  waves  of  sound  until  the  atmosphere  of  the  whole 
world  shall  vibrate  with  its  clarion-call.  Humanity 
will  be  redeemed,  each  faculty  retained,  no  power,  no 
capacity,  being  crushed  out ;  and  as  man  by  man  is  re- 
newed into  the  original  likeness,  as  the  old  long-lost 
beauty  returns  to  the  countenance,  face  after  face  will 
be  lifted,  lip  after  lip  will  part,  and  the  prayer  of  each 
and  all  will  be,  "  To  spend  and  be  spent  for  Christ."  No 
sail  will  be  folded,  no  wheel  stopped,  no  bustle  cease, 
no  note  slumber  amid  the  keys  for  lack  of  touch  to 
bring  it  forth,  no  lusty  call  to  labor  be  ungiven,  no 
mirthful  laugh  be  checked,  no  poet's  song  unsung, 
in  the  millennial  age :  but  piety  and  diligence,  too 
long  divorced,  shall  renew  their  ancient  troth ;  and 
the  hands  that  know  not  now  the  other's  touch  shall 
be  reclasped,  to  part  no  more  forever. 

But  do  not  think  that  diligence  in  business  alone  is 
the  command  of  Scripture.  Application  is  not  virtue, 
and  never  will  be.  A  busy  man,  who  converts  night 
into  day  by  the  ceaseless  activity  of  his  thoughts,  is 
not  necessarily  a  good  man.  The  motive  of  his  in- 
dustry, the  object  of  his  perseverance,  is  what  tests 
their  value,  and  reveals  his  true  character.  I  warn 
you  men  who  are  immersed  in  business-pursuits  to 
bear  this  in  mind.     Be  alarmed  when  you  find  that 


332     BUSINESS-LIFE:    ITS  USES  AND  DANGERS. 

the  acquisition  of  wealth  is  getting  to  be  the  habit  of 
your  thoughts.  The  accumulation  of  money  is  not  the 
best,  not  necessarily  an  advantageous,  result  of  your 
activities.  It  is  because  a  faithful  attention  to  busi- 
ness develops  you  yourself  that  you  are  to  give  it. 
To  discipline  your  mind;  to  make  benevolence  possi- 
ble to  you ;  to  provide,  not  for  the  vanity  and  pride, 
but  the  necessity,  of  others  ;  to  put  you  in  a  position 
from  which  you  can  exert  a  healthy  influence  in  soci- 
ety, —  in  these  and  like  results  you  see  the  true  benefit 
of  diligence.  Be  careful  where  you  lay  up  your  treas- 
ures. You  can  take  no  money  with  you  to  heaven : 
you  can  take  only  your  character.  You  know  that 
I  never  introduce  the  subject  of  dying  into  my  ser- 
mons to  frighten  you :  that  would  be  a  poor  gospel 
indeed  which  should  give  me  no  stronger  name  to  in- 
fluence your  motives  than  death,  no  more  powerful 
words  with  which  to  start  you  to  thought  than  the 
spade  and  the  grave.  But,  nevertheless,  you  know 
as  well  as  I  do  that  you  are  mortal ;  that  there  is 
somewhere  ahead  a  grave  for  every  one  of  you,  and 
an  hour  set  in  which  you  will  die;  and  you  know, 
that,  whether  you  have  little  or  much,  you  cannot 
take  one  dollar  of  it  into  the  next  world.  "  What 
then  shall  I  take  ?  "  do  you  ask.  I  reply,  You  will 
take  your  minds  there  :  see,  therefore,  that  you  in- 
struct them  properly.  You  Avill  take  your  imagina- 
tion there  :  see  to  it  that  it  be  pure  ;  for  it  is  written, 
that  nothing  that  deflleth  shall  enter  therein.  You 
will  take  your  emotional  natures  there  :  see  to  it,  then, 
that,  ere  that  hour,  they  be  fit  for  the  bosom  and  the 


BTTSINESS-LIFE  :    ITS   USES  AND  DANGERS.    333 

station  of  an  angel.  And  last,  but  not  least,  you  will 
take  the  result  of  your  sins  there,  unless  God  shall 
mercifully  remove  them  before  you  die.  Keep  these 
facts  well  in  mind,  friends  and  companions  ;  for  upon 
your  daily  remembrance  of  them  will  largely  depend 
your  peace  and  safety  in  your  dying-hour. 

Now,  many  of  you  have  lived  years  in  business-life  : 
you  have  grown  gray  in  trade  and  commerce.  You 
have  been  here  for  years,  and  done  your  part  to  lift  this 
city  into  its  present  prominence :  it  is  a  long  while  since 
you  came  to  it  as  a  boy  in  years  and  experience.  Now,  I 
wish  to  say  a  few  words  to  you.  You  know  that  I  rejoice 
in  your  prosperity,  and  mourn  at  your  losses.  The 
Lord  has  granted  unto  you  to  be  pillars  and  columns 
of  support  in  this  his  temple.  The  future  of  this 
church  leans  on  you  as  a  post  not  yet  set  into  the 
ground  leans  on  the  holder.  It  is  the  voice  of  sym- 
pathy, of  pride,  of  friendship,  that  needs  not  to  be 
ashamed  of  itself,  that  now  comes  to  you ;  and  what  it 
solicits  is,  that  you  look  back  over  all  your  years  of 
toil  and  struggle,  over  all  your  failures  and  successes, 
over  all  the  dark  and  bright  seasons  of  your  commer- 
cial or  professional  life,  and  observe  what  effect  it  has 
all  had  upon  you.  You  are  now  lifted,  as  it  were, 
upon  a  hill-top.  Before  you  look  into  the  valley  ahead, 
look  for  a  moment  on  the  valley  back  of  you .  It  is  the 
color  of  the  sunset  that  tells  us  what  will  be  the  char- 
acter of  the  coming  day.  You  have  striven  for 
wealth  ;  and  many  of  you  have  it,  or  are  getting  it. 
What  else  have  you  ?  What  else  are  you  getting  be- 
sides ?     This  you  must  leave  ;    but  what  have  you 


334     BUSINESS-LIFE:    ITS   USES  AND  DANGERS. 

that  you  can  take  with  you  at  death  ?  When  earth- 
ly raiment  falls,  when  all  the  earthly  conditions  and 
surroundings  with  which  you  are  arrayed  now  shall 
drop,  with  what  will  you  be  clothed  upon  ?  I  pray 
God  that  it  may  be  with  the  mantle  of  a  perfected 
character,  over  which,  both  as  armor  and  a  kingly 
vesture,  shall  be  seen  the  righteousness  of  Christ ;  for, 
being  so  clothed,  you  shall  not  be  found  naked. 

The  great  danger  ahead,  friends,  the  imminent  peril 
poising  over  us  all  as  a  hawk  above  its  prey,  ready  to 
swoop,  is  materialism.  Do  not  forget,  that,  in  the  firsfc 
seventy  years  of  the  Republic's  life,  the  lust  of  gain 
nearly  destroyed  us.  Woe  will  be  to  us  all  when  our 
young  men  shall  see  nothing  heroic  in  business ;  when 
trade  shall  have  nothing  more  honorable  in  it,  nothing 
to  be  prized  more,  than  money  ;  when  commerce  shall 
be  only  mercenary,  and  the  motive  which  impels  the 
capacities  of  the  people  worthy  only  of  the  slave-trade  ! 
Should  such  a  day  ever  come,  beggary  will  be  a  bless- 
ing, and  the  heaviest  curse  felt  the  curse  of  birth. 
Better  not  be  born  than  to  live  in  such  an  age  ;  bet- 
ter die  in  the  cradle  like  a  flower  in  the  bud  :  for  life 
will  be  but  the  unfolding  of  a  poisonous  principle, 
like  a  flower  whose  every  leaf  adds  to  the  volume  of 
poison  already  in  the  atmosphere  ;  and  the  larger  the 
flower,  the  deadlier  the  poison ;  for  history,  if  it  proves 
nothing  else,  proves  at  least  this,  —  that  "  a  nation 
which  knows  not  God  shall  utterly  perish. " 

There  is  probably  not  a  Christian  man  present  who 
does  not  agree  in  substance  with  me.  You  see  the 
danger ;  you  have  felt  the  force  of  the  pressure,  even 


BUSINESS-LIFE:    ITS  USES  AND  DANGERS.     335 

in  your  own  characters.  You  see  to  what  peril  the 
young  men  are  to  be  exposed.  What,  then,  are  you 
doing  to  prevent  it  ?  Have  you  warned  your  boy  of  the 
great  risk  of  the  age  ?  Have  you  re-enforced,  are  you 
re-enforcing,  the  nobler  impulses  of  his  soul  by  your 
example  ?  You  maybe  safe  ;  but  is  he  safe  ?  You  were 
seasoned  and  sobered  by  early  poverty ;  but  he  begins 
life  with  the  advantage,  as  you  think,  and  as  he  thinks, 
of  wealth.  God  grant  it  may  not  prove  to  his  hurt ! 
Wealth  should  not  hurt  him ;  and  will  not,  if  you 
teach  him  to  look  upon  it  rightly.  But  warn  him. 
Tell  him  that  a  full  stream  means  a  swift  current  ; 
tell  him  that  he  must  be  a  better  man,  a  more  spir- 
itual-minded man,  than  his  father  has  been,  or  he  will 
be  a  great  deal  worse.  No  generation  should  go  to 
its  grave  until  it  has  given  to  the  one  that  is  to  follow 
it  the  benefit  of  its  experience.  I  think  of  the  graves 
where  your  fathers  sleep ;  I  think  of  the  mounds 
scattered  all  through  the  country  graveyards  of  New 
England,  where  your  mothers  repose.  They  were, 
for  the  most  part,  I  presume,  hard-working  people, 
honest  and  economical.  They  loved  the  sabbath  and 
the  sanctuary ;  they  educated  you  to  work ;  they 
impressed  you  with  their  own  habits  ;  they  gave  unto 
you,  before  you  left  them,  the  best  they  knew  of 
wisdom.  Go  and  do  likewise.  Pay  to  those  graves 
the  deep  debt  of  gratitude  you  owe  them  by  trans- 
mitting to  your  children  the  lesson  of  your  experi- 
ence, as  they  transmitted  to  you  the  teachings  of 
theirs. 

It   is   the  relation  of  business,  of   all  activity  to 


336     BUSINESS-LIFE  :    ITS  USES  AND  DANGERS. 

man's  development,  it  is  in  the  object  that  all  these 
exercises  subserve,  that  we  see  their  honor  and  diGT- 
nity.  Any  exercise  which  will  build  your  charac- 
ter up  in  worthiness,  which  will  strengthen  your 
integrity,  make  a  wider  benevolence  possible  to  you, 
cause  you  to  be  powerful  as  an  example  for  good,  is 
indeed  honorable.  Viewed  in  this  light,  business,  the 
professions,  the  arts,  the  sciences,  trade,  and  com- 
merce, are  all  honorable :  viewed  in  any  other,  they 
are  ail  base.  Whatever  lowers  the  average  of  virtue, 
gives  discipline  and  prominence  to  cunning,  encour- 
ages covetousness,  ministers  to  vanity  and  ostenta- 
tion, binds  a  man  down  to  the  earthy,  —  whatever 
does  this  is  bad  and  base  and  wicked :  for  man's 
pursuits  should  improve  man ;  should  ennoble,  and  not 
debase  ;  should  prepare,  and  not  unfit  him  for  another 
and  a  better  sphere.  Prove  all  things,  friends ;  hold 
fast  to  that  which  is  good. 

If  I  am  anxious  for  you  ;  if  I  carry  you  who  are  in 
the  midst  of  gainful  pursuits  most  on  ray  heart ;  if 
in  my  best  moods,  when  I  realize  the  vanity  of  this 
world  most,  and  the  dignity  of  the  life  to  come,  and 
if,  when,  with  every  faculty  quickened  by  the  Spirit,  I 
seem  lifted  out  of  myself  into  a  state  and  stature  more 
akin  to  such  aspirations,  —  if  then  I  bear  you  to  the 
Father  of  your  souls,  and,  standing  there  in  front 
of  the  great  white  throne,  plead  for  you,  it  is  not 
for  your  sakes  alone  I  plead,  but  for  the  sake  of  all 
living,  and  of  all  yet  to  be  born.  The  time  was  when 
those  who  urged  on  the  industries  of  the  world  were 
of  little  influence  or  weight.     The  indolent  class  held 


BUSINESS-LIFE  :    ITS  USES   AND  DANGERS.     337 

the  sceptre  ;  the  drones  ruled  the  hive.  The  reverse 
is  true  to-day.  Trade  and  commerce  are  no  longer 
the  proof  of  menial  blood.  The  marks  which  de- 
monstrate royalty  are  other  than  they  were  of  old 
time.  The  business-men  of  the  country  can  alone 
save  the  country.  Piety  must  look  to  you  for  her 
noblest  examples.  If  in  your  natures  and  lives 
Christianity  meets  with  failure,  I  know  not  where  or 
to  whom  she  may  look  for  success.  The  strength  of 
morality  as  a  substitute  for  religion  is  derived  from 
the  imperfect  example  of  professed  Christians.  If 
you  lived  better,  you  would  convert  more. 

You  will  pardon  this  plainness  of  speech  if  it  be 
founded  upon  an  erroneous  apprehension  of  the  forces 
that  underlie  society.  If  it  be  founded  on  a  correct 
analysis,  I  ask  no  excuse  for  it ;  let  it  all  stand,  albeit 
the  words  are  grave  :  for  if  you  do,  in  the  providence 
of  God,  occupy  the  position  I  hold  you  do,  then  it 
behooves  you  to  look  to  it  that  you  meet  your  obli- 
gations to  the  letter. 

And  now,  friends,  I  have  said  what  I  had  in  mind, 
and  what  I  prepared  to  bring  before  you  this  morn- 
ing. You  see  on  which  side  my  caution  leans ;  you 
have  my  whole  mind  touching  your  duty  and  your 
danger:  I  need  add  no  more.  May  the  Spirit,  who  is 
mighty  to  apply  the  truth,  take  of  my  weak  words, 
and  make  them  strong  ! 

How  these  sabbaths  come  and  go !  How  swiftly 
the  weeks  pass  !  and  how  the  years  are  being  multi- 
plied upon  us  !     Many  a  patch  of  vapor  have  I  seen 

15 


338     BUSINESS-LIFE:    ITS    CTSES   AND  DANGERS. 

rise  from  the  valley,  and  melt  away,  leaving  no  trace  , 
many  another  patch  have  I  seen  rise  from  the  low 
level,  lifted  by  strong  currents  of  air  until  the  sun 
met  it  with  its  rays,  and  changed  from  gray  to  crim- 
son its  edges  burning  like  opals,  keeping  its  cohe- 
rence, float  out  of  mortal  vision,  that  sought  in  vain 
to  follow  it  along  its  path  of  glory  :  and  I  have  said 
to  myself,  "  Life  is  indeed  like  a  vapor  ;  but  what  dif- 
ference there  may  be,  even  in  vapor  !  And  what  dif- 
ference there  may  be  in  two  lives  !  —  one  visible  only 
when  moving  in  the  dense  atmosphere  of  this  earth, 
but  disappearing  the  instant  it  rises  above  the  damp- 
ness of  its  home ;  the  other  seen  indeed  from  the 
start,  but  never  so  prominent  as  when  the  other 
fades;  never  truly  resplendent  until  it  has  been 
lifted  far  above  the  earth,  and  is  borne  away  in  the 
clear  light  of  God." 


SABBATH  MOBNIJVQ,  SEPT.  2Jf,  1871. 


SERMON. 


SUBJECT. -VALUE  OF  PERSONAL  ACQUAINTANCE  AND   CONTACT  WITH 
THE  VICIOUS  AS  THE  MEANS  FOR  THEIR  REFORMATION. 

"  But  their  scribes  and  Pharisees  murmured  against  his  dis- 
ciples, saying,  Why  do  ye  eat  and  drink  with  publicans  and 
sinners?"— Luke  v.  30. 

I  WILL  read  you  the  entire  passage  from  which  the 
text  is  taken ;  for  it  gives  us  a  very  vivid  and 
peculiar  picture  of  Christ  in  his  relation  to  the  vicious 
class  of  his  time,  and  forces  upon  our  attention  his 
method  of  procedure.  This  is  the  way  it  is  recorded 
in  the  Gospel  by  Luke :  — 

"  And  after  these  things  he  went  forth,  and  saw  a 
publican,  named  Levi,  sitting  at  the  receipt  of  custom ; 
and  he  said  unto  him,  Follow  me.  And  he  left  all, 
rose  up,  and  followed  him.  And  Levi  made  him  a 
great  feast  in  his  own  house  ;  and  there  was  a  great 
company  of  publicans  and  of  others  that  sat  down 
with  them.  But  their  scribes  and  Pharisees  mur- 
mured against  his  disciples,  saying,  Why  do  ye 
eat  and  drink  with  publicans  and  sinners?  .  And 
Jesus,  answering,  said  unto  them,  They  that  are 
whole  need  not  a  physician,  but  they  that  are  sick. 


340    PERSONAL  ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  SINNERS 

I  came,  not  to  call  the  righteous,  but  sinners  to 
repentance." 

The  Church,  friends,  has  passed  beyond  the  period 
of  theological  discussions.  Whatever  is  intricate  in 
exegesis,  or  difficult  in  interpretation,  has  been  made 
plain;  at  least,  as  much  so  as  human  ingenuity  and 
close  attention  may  ever  do  it.  Nineteen  hundred 
years  of  discussion  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Bible,  as 
they  are  styled,  have  left  us  little  to  discuss.  Not  that 
scholarship  is  no  longer  needed ;  not  that  new  discov- 
eries will  not  reward  patient  examination:  but  the 
problems  of  the  past  will  not  be  the  problems  of  the 
future.  The  intellectual  forces  of  the  Church  are  still 
needed  in  all  their  vigor ;  but  they  will  be  exercised 
in  new  directions,  and  toward  new  objects.  In  its 
theology  the  Church  is  ripe.  Its  branches  are  heavy 
with  the  matured  thought  of  centuries.  They  droop 
under  the  collected  results  of  two  thousand  years  of 
growth.  For  one  (and  I  believe  I  speak  for  a  large 
class  of  preachers),  I  accept  the  theology  of  the 
fathers.  Doctrinally,  I  desire  no  "  new  departure." 
The  main,  underlying  facts  of  gospel  narrative  I  put 
full  faith  in.  I  desire  no  novelties  of  doctrine  or 
interpretation.  The  fathers  laid  the  foundations 
deep,  and  made  them  strong.  My  trowel  shall  never 
start  the  old  cement.  I  am  anxious  only  touching 
the  superstructure. 

It  is  not  the  interpretation,  but  the  application  of 
the  gospel  to  human  affairs,  that  concerns  us  of  to-day. 
The  reduction  of  Christianity  to  practice,  and  not  the 
formulating  it  into  systems,  —  this  is  what  concerns  us 


THE  MEANS  FOR  THEIR  REFORMATION.        341 

How  to  best  incarnate  the  truth  we  believe,  how  we 
can  win  others  to  our  mode  of  life, — this  is  the  prob- 
lem ;  and  to  this  I  urge  that  all  your  energies  be 
ceaselessly  directed. 

Remember  that  books  give  no  adequate  expression 
to  Christian  truth.  Christian  men  alone  express 
Christianity.  The  character  and  the  acts  of  Christ 
are  a  stronger  proof  of  his  divinity  than  his  words. 
Study  his  sayings  only  that  you  may  come  to  a  bet- 
ter knowledge  of  him.  As  the  lenses  of  a  telescope 
are  valuable  only  as  they  assist  the  eye  to  behold  the 
star,  so  the  words  of  the  Bible  are  precious  to  us 
only  because  they  bring  Christ  nearer  to  us,  and  cause 
us  to  have  a  clearer  and  more  distinct  vision  of  him. 
Now,  the  passage  I  have  read  presents  Christ  to  us 
as  a  spiritual  laborer.  He  wished  to  reach  and  convert 
a  certain  class  of  men ;  and  it  shows  us  how  he  went 
to  work  to  do  it.  In  other  passages  he  has  instructed 
us  by  speech,  verbal  directions ;  but  here  he  teaches 
us  by  example.  The  lesson  is  very  plain.  The  infer- 
ence touching  our  own  duty  is  direct.  Personal 
acquaintance  and  intercourse  is  here  held  up  to  us  as 
the  true  method  of  putting  a  moral  influence  on 
wicked  men.  The  idea  is  this :  If  you  wish  to  con- 
vert a  man,  go  to  him. 

One  thing  may  as  well  be  settled  first  as  last,  —  that 
non-intercourse  never  converted  a  sinner  yet.  If  you 
touch  nothing  soiled  in  this  world,  you  will  keep  your 
own  hand  Avhite,  beyond  doubt ;  but  you  will  never 
cleanse  any  thing.  You  cannot  wash  dishes  at  long 
range.     When  Christ  went   down   to  the   house  of 


342   PERSONAL  ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  SINNERS 

Levi  the  publican,  to  the  great  feast  Levi  had  made 
for  him,  and  sat  down  with  those  men  whom  society 
despised  and  hated,  and  justly  too,  he  did  not  merely 
a  brave  act,  but  one  of  the  wisest  of  his  life.  In  the 
first  place,  it  brought  him  face  to  face  with  a  class  of 
men  that  nobody  cared  for.  The  publicans  were,  as 
a  whole,  a  villanous  set;  and  society  estimated  them 
about  right.  It  is  safe  to  say,  that  even  a  Pharisee 
could  not  curse  them  too  roundly ;  for  their  propensi- 
ties to  cheat  and  oppress  were  notorious.  The  tax- 
gatherers  in  Ireland  during  the  years  of  famine  were 
not  more  cordially  or  justly  hated  by  the  starving 
peasantry  than  were  the  publicans  by  the  Jews. 
They  were  a  despised,  cruel,  and  neglected  class,  with 
neither  social  nor  church  connection.  The  only 
earthly  reason  that  Christ  could  give  for  going  down 
to  eat  and  talk,  and,  as  I  suppose,  laugh,  with  these 
men,  was  that  each  one  of  them  had  a  soul.  Yea, 
every  sharp-faced,  thin-lipped,  low-browed,  keen-eyed 
money-gatherer  before  him  had  a  soul.  He  had  no 
pious  parents,  no  respectable  family  connections  ;  he 
had  never  been  religiously  educated;  he  had  no 
mother  to  pray  for  him ;  he  was  not  even  a  back-,, 
sliding  church-member ;  there  was  not  a  respectable 
man  in  Palestine  who  would  introduce  him  to  his 
daughters ;  he  was  an  earthly-minded,  unprincipled 
villain.  But  he  had  a  soul.  That  was  enough.  That 
was  all  the  excuse  Christ  had  ;  the  only  possible  rea- 
son that  he  could  give  friend  and  foe  for  eating  with 
them.  He  needed  no  other.  Whoever  had  a  soul 
belonged  to  him ;  at  least,  in  effort,  in  sympathy,  in 


THE   MEANS   FOR  THEIR  REFORMATION.        343 

hope.  For  just  such  people  as  these  he  had  left 
heaven.  These  were  the  very  ones  he  came  to  call 
to  repentance.  To  win  their  love,  to  make  them  like 
him,  and  thus  adopt  his  mode  of  life  ;  to  send  a  shaft 
of  light  through  the  mirk  of  their  sordidness  ;  to  cleave 
it  through  and  through,  and  dissipate  it,  —  this  was  his 
aim.  And  it  should  be  the  aim  of  every  Christian 
to-dav  who  labors  amono-  the  vicious  for  Christ. 

Well,  that  feast  cost  Christ  something.  The  pious 
and  horrified  Pharisees  tacked  a  name  on  to  him 
which  followed  and  clung  to  him,  as  a  slanderous 
report  often  will  follow  and  cling  to  a  good  man,  to 
his  dying-day.  They  styled  him,  after  that,  a  "friend 
of  publicans  and  sinners."  They  cried  it  up  and  down 
through  the  whole  country,  that  "  Jesus  of  Nazareth 
had  been  eating  with  the  tax-gatherers,  fraternizing 
with  the  people's  oppressors  and  loose  characters." 
They  said  that  he  was  nothing  in  the  world  but  a 
wine-bibber  and  a  glutton ;  that,  if  he  cast  out  devils, 
it  was  only  by  the  help  of  the  Devil ;  that  the  roughs 
and  refuse  of  Palestine  were  swarming  to  him ;  and 
that  he  affiliated  with  them,  and  declared  everywhere 
that  these  should  go  into  heaven  before  church-mem- 
bers and  the  best  people  of.  the  land. 

The  bigots  and  gossips  of  that  day  had  a  fine  time 
of  it,  I  warrant ;  and  fast  and  swift  did  they  roll  up 
that  wave  of  calumny  and  misrepresentation  which 
broke  at  last  in  bloody  foam  on  Calvary. 

Well,  what  had  Christ  gained  ?  He  had  done,  it 
must  be  admitted,  a  strange  thing  ;  lost  his  good  name 
and  much  influence  by  it  among  the  religious  class. 


344    PERSONAL   ACQUAINTANCE   WITH   SINNERS 

And  what  had  he  gained  ?  This,  I  answer  :  He  had 
<rot  at  last  face  to  face  with  the  men  he  wanted  to  bet' 
ter.  He  knew  their  names,  their  vices,  their  good  spots, 
and  their  bad  ones ;  had  had  a  chance  to  study 
their  mode  of  thought,  learn  something  of  their  per- 
sonal history  and  the  history  of  their  families,  and  to 
get  their  affections.  Don't  start  at  that.  I  think 
those  publicans  grew  quickly  to  love  Christ.  In  the 
first  place,  he  had  already  acquired  great  fame  in  the 
country,  and  they  would  naturally  feel  flattered  by 
his  notice.  They  saw  also,  that,  in  accepting  their 
invitation,  he  had  done  an  unpopular  deed  for  him- 
self ;  and  this  must  have  stirred  them  to  gratitude. 
But,  above  all,  his  urbanity  and  approachableness,  his 
simplicity  of  speech,  and  the  entire  absence  of  the 
holier-than-thou  feeling  in  looks,  dress,  or  manner,  — 
all  this,  and  much  besides,  must  have  drawn  them 
toward  him  in  cordial  gratitude  and  respect. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  such  a  class  of  men 
are  slow  to  recognize  goodness.  They  acknowledge 
it  readily,  and  respect  it  most  heartily  ;  but  it  must  be 
real.  No  sham  passes  current  among  them.  It  must 
be  a  piety  which  makes  the  heart  kind,  and  the  hand 
warm,  and  which  talks  of  Christ  in  a  natural  tone  of 
voice,  and  an  open,  beaming  face.  Now,  I  presume 
that  the  Saviour  in  his  humanity  was  one  of  the  most 
natural  of  men.  In  this  consisted  his  great  contrast  to 
the  Pharisees.  He  was  a  Galilean  peasant,  and  dressed 
as  such.  He  was  a  carpenter's  son,  and  knew  by  ex- 
perience what  manual  labor  is.  He  had  never  been 
drilled   to   write   sermons   in   a   modern   theological 


THE  MEANS  FOR  THEIR  REFORMATION.       345 

school,  where  the  student,  in  order  to  stand  high, 
must  discover  considerable  more  truth  than  God  ever 
revealed ;  nor  had  he  ever  got  the  prayer-meeting  tone, 
or  the  severe  and  solemn  expression,  considered  by 
many  humble  and  orthodox :  but  he  was  a  simple- 
spoken,  grave-faced,  kind-hearted  young  man.  This 
at  least,  I  presume,  was  what  he  appeared  to  the  pub- 
licans when  he  sat  down  to  supper.  He  had  won  his 
opportunity,  I  say ;  and  I  warrant,  that,  ere  that  feast 
was  over,  even  their  sordid  natures  had  been  quick- 
ened toward  their  wonderful  guest,  and  some  had 
eaten  of  bread  which  forbids  hunger,  and  drunk  of 
water  which  banished  thirst  forever. 

Now,  what  the  churches  in  their  individual  ca- 
pacity want  is  contact,  personal  contact,  with  those 
whom  they  are  to  better.  The  great  motives  of  re- 
form are  to  be  inculcated  individually.  When  a  good 
man  has  won  the  respect  and  affection  of  a  bad  man, 
he  has  the  evil  in  him  at  a  tremendous  disadvantage. 
The  strength  of  the  North-End  Mission  lies  in  its  per- 
sonnel. In  that  field  good  people  have  put  themselves 
in  contact  with  bad  people,  and  Satan  is  being  thwart- 
ed. It  is  not  their  alms,  but  the  kindly  touch  of 
their  hands,  their  faces,  their  presence,  their  wise, 
pleasant,  and  hopeful  words,  that  make  their  mission  a 
success.  Their  system  is  right,  because  they  are  copy- 
ing after  Christ.  They  are  demonstrating  their  error 
to  those  who  have  lost  faith  in  the  happiness  of  virtue, 
and  impressing  the  discouraged  with  the  hopefulness 
of  moral  effort.  They  have  taken  hold  of  sin  here  just 
as  you,  through  your  missionaries,  took  hold  of  it  in 


346  PERSONAL  ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  SINNERS 

the  Sandwich  Islands ;  and  the  result,  if  they  perse- 
vere, will  be  the  same.  He  who  doubts  it  doubts 
the  strength  of  virtue,  the  energy  of  truth,  the  power 
of  energized  love,  and  the  omnipotence  of  God. 

There  is  another  characteristic  of  piety  that  must 
not  be  overlooked.  Mild  and  gentle  as  it  is,  it  is  full 
of  antagonisms  to  whatever  is  unlike  itself  in  nature. 
It  cannot  reconcile  itself  to  nor  endure  the  pres- 
ence of  evil.  It  walks  the  streets  of  our  cities  with 
the  pose  of  a  soldier  when  carrying  his  musket  at  the 
"  charge."  Its  features  are  set,  inflexible,  as  an  old 
veteran's  when  he  marches  into  the  blaze  of  batte- 
ries. The  bodies  of  dead  reputations  are  around  him 
everywhere,  and  the  air  vibrant'with  danger.  It  is 
not  because  Christians  court  opposition  that  they  are 
so  often  found  at  war  with  the  established  usages  and 
customs  of  society,  but  because  the  positions  that  the 
two  parties  occupy  insure  inevitable  collision.  You 
take  a  boy^  and  educate  him,  I  care  not  whether  by 
purely  human  processes,  or  by  human  and  heavenly 
processes  conjoined,  to  dislike  and  regard  as  wrong 
certain  courses  of  action,  and  you  have  pledged  him 
to  battle  them  by  the  very  sympathies  of  his  nature. 
Let,  now,  these  virtuous  instincts,  and  abhorrence  of 
vice,  be  confirmed  by  years  of  experience  and  obser- 
vation among  men  ;  let  observation  corroborate  Scrip- 
ture, and  re-enforce  parental  education  as  to  the  de- 
structive effects  of  sin  upon  persons  and  society,  —  and 
the  man  will  be  more  intolerant  of  vice  than  was  the 
boy.  Reason  will  now  act  in  conjunction  with  con- 
science ;  knowledge  of  causes  and  effects  in  society 


THE   MEANS   FOR.  THEIR  REFORMATION.        347 

will  stimulate  the  growth  of  what  is  most  positive  in 
his  piety ;  and  he  will  look  upon  sin  as  a  realist  looks 
upon  the  untruthful  in  art,  —  as  something  to  be  con- 
demned and  wiped  out.  Religion  should  find  its 
stanchest  advocates  among  the  business-men  of  a 
country ;  among  those  of  the  wisest  experience  in  hu- 
man affairs,  and  most  familiar  with  the  practical  work- 
ing of  things  :  for  you  who  are  of  this  class  know  well 
that  public  prosperity  and  preponderating  vices  can- 
not co-exist  in  a  community  ;  that,  by  as  much  as  you 
sink  a  single  street  or  section  of  this  city  in  drunk- 
enness or  any  other  vice,  by  so  much  do  you  detract 
not  only  from  its  capacity  to  produce,  but  also  to  con- 
sume. An  ignorant,  imbruted  population  buy  little. 
As  }Tou  press  a  man  down  to  the  level  of  an  ani- 
mal, you  contract  the  circle  of  his  wants.  His  value 
as  a  customer  is  lessened  as  his  vices  increase.  You 
might  as  well  banish  one-half  the  local  custom  of  this 
city  as  to  allow  public  morality  to  fall  away  to  that 
extent. 

Now,  as  you  all  know,  vice  is  always  aggressive ; 
and  between  it  and  the  intelligence  of  the  country 
there  will  ever  he  conflict.  The  contest  will  grow 
fiercer  and  fiercer  as  the  points  of  difference  are  bet- 
ter apprehended  by  the  participants.  Every  legiti- 
mate business  in  this  city,  every  grocery  and  store 
and  factory,  is  committed  by  the  instinct  of  trade  to 
oppose  the  increase  of  drunkenness  and  gambling 
and  idleness  in  our  midst.  Intelligence,  which  brings 
with  it  the  knowledge  of  wants ;  and  virtue,  which 
begets  industry  by  the  wages  of  which  those  wants 


348    PERSONAL  ACQUAINTANCE   WITH  SINNERS 

are  supplied,  — are  what  cause  wealth  to  accumulate, 
and  trade  to  prosper.  Political  economy  and  religion 
are  natural  allies.  God  has  pledged  us  to  missionary 
effort  by  the  most  selfish  of  all  instincts,  —  the  instinct 
of  money-getting.  He  has  made  success  in  things 
earthly  dependent  upon  progression  in  things  spirit- 
ual. He  has  stamped  into  the  very  substance  of 
human  society,  that  virtue  pays. 

But,  if  trade  cannot  tolerate  iniquity  in  this  city, 
much  less  can  piety.  If  the  business-man  as  &  busi- 
ness-man is  bound  to  oppose  its  every  development 
in  our  midst,  when  may  the  Christian  become  listless  ? 
If  Pearl  Street  and  Commercial  Wharf  are  directly 
interested  in  the  North  End  and  the  South  Cove, 
what  are  the  churches  of  Boston  to  say  touching  the 
state  of  society  in  these  localities?  The  churches 
of  Christ  are  interested  in  these  places :  they  are 
interested  as  a  gentleman  is  interested  in  a  miserable 
marsh  that  lies  in  front  of  his  house,  marring  his 
view,  and  sending  up  its  foul  miasms  to  spread  over 
his  lawn,  and  stream  through  his  windows  into  his 
rooms.  It  is  not  only  an  unsightly,  an  offensive,  but 
a  dangerous  object :  its  exhalations  are  loaded  with 
contagion ;  it  is  the  very  source  of  disease  ;  its  continu- 
ance is  a  shame  and  disgrace  to  his  enterprise,  and  an 
impeachment  of  his  affections.  If  he  loves  his  chil- 
dren, he  will  remove  the  evil  from  them.  It  is  just 
so  touching  this  accumulation  of  vice  within  hailing- 
distance  of  our  churches.  Here  are  entire  sections 
of  the  city  given  over  to  be  populated  and  possessed 
by  viciousness  ;  and  we  plume  ourselves  if  we  keep  it 


THE  MEANS  FOR  THEIR  REFORMATION.       349 

within  its  own  bounds.  We  give  up  one  house  out 
of  every  three  to  be  a  brothel,  a  gambling-den,  or  a 
rum-shop,  and  then  rejoice  that  our  morals  are  so 
well  protected.  We  make  one-half  of  the  city  a 
safe  spot  for  a  lady  to  walk  in  by  day,  and  one-third 
of  it  tolerably  secure  for  gentlemen  by  night,  and  call 
our  method  of  city  government  a  success.  I  would 
like  to  know,  would  like  to  ask  this  question  of 
some  of  you  who  are  interested  in  this  thing,  because 
God  has  made  it  the  city  of  your  residence,  and  the 
city  of  your  hope,  and  the  city  where  your  children 
are  to  live,  —  I  would  like  to  ask  you  what  you  think 
of  it  ?  Here  you  are,  Christian  men  of  large  means  and 
large  influence,  —  influential  enough  to  be  felt  in  the 
Sandwich  Islands,  in  Africa,  in  Asia,  in  China,  and 
in  every  known  land  under  heaven,  —  and  your  own 
city  is  not  half  Christianized.  I  say,  and  I  believe 
that  I  speak  the  simple  truth,  that  the  state  of  things 
here,  morally  considered,  is  a  shame  upon  every  man 
and  woman  of  influence  in  this  city  that  call  them- 
selves Christians.  Why,  look  at  it.  Here  we  are 
living  year  in  and  year  out  with  a  marsh  right  in 
front  of  us ;  the  atmosphere  which  we  breathe,  and 
which  our  wives  and  children  breathe,  absolutely 
fetid  and  rank  with  moral  rottenness ;  our  jails 
filled  to  overflowing  ;  our  streets  so  insecure,  that  you 
must  needs,  in  many  sections  of  the  city,  keep  your 
policemen  within  sight  of  each  other;  the  sabbath 
so  openly  disregarded,  that  desecration  is  habitual,  and 
excites  no  comment.  And  all  we  have  done,  so  far,  has 
been  this:   We  have  hired   some  twelve  or  twenty 


350  PERSONAL  ACQUAINTANCE  WITH   SINNERS 

men  and  women  to  go  down  each  year,  and  throw  a 
thousand  Bibles,  and  twenty  thousand  religious  tracts 
as  large  as  the  palm  of  your  hand,  into  this  huge 
bayou  of  blue  mud.  I  ask  you  to  tell  me  how  long 
it  will  take  to  fill  it  up  at  this  rate  ?  Do  you  think 
that  the  stench  will  be  taken  out  of  the  air  by  sprin- 
kling the  lavender  of  the  City  Missionary  Society  over 
the  pillows  on  which  your  consciences  now  sleep, 
undisturbed  by  the  miasms  that  every  gust  of  crime 
blows  up  into  your  bedrooms  ?  I  know  I  am  saying 
what  will  offend  many ;  for  religious  egotism  is 
always  offended  at  any  impeachment  of  its  wisdom 
or  earnestness.  It  hates  the  man  who  takes  it  by  the 
shoulders,  and  turns  it  about,  and  makes  it  look  an 
ugly  fact  square  in  the  face  ;  and  the  fact  is,  that 
men  and  women  are  riving  and  dying  by  scores  in  this 
city,  weekly,  without  any  knowledge  of  God.  The 
eyes  of  their  torment  look  out  upon  a  hundred  church- 
steeples  as  they  close  in  death,  and  their  lids  droop  over 
the  redness  of  an  anguish  that  you  have  never  tried  to 
alleviate.  They  go  up  to  God  with  the  mirk  of  their 
sins  upon  them,  as  leaves  which  a  tornado  shovels 
out  of  the  soil  are  flung  up  into  the  screaming  air ; 
they  go  up,  as  your. doctrines  teach,  to  be  condemned. 
And  who  are  those  who  will  be  condemned  along  with 
them  ?  Can  you  tell  me-  ?  I  imagine,  that,  in  their  day 
of  trial,  their  voices  will  be  heard.  They  shall  not  be 
gagged  before  that  great  assize :  they  shall  plead 
their  cause ;  they  shall  pour  forth  their  complaint. 
They  will  say,  "  Condemn  us  not,  O  Thou  who  wert 
not  known  by  us  !     We  did  not  know  thy  law ;  we 


THE  MEANS  FOR  THEIR  REFORMATION.       351 

did  not  know  the  truth  ;  we  never  heard  a  word  —  oh  ! 
believe  us,  we  never  heard  a  syllable  —  of  Jesus.  Bear 
not  on  us  too  hard,  O  God !  "  And  one  shall  speak 
and  say,  "  I  was  born  in  drunkenness.  My  vernacular 
wTas  the  language  of  obscenity.  I  learned  to  swear 
upon  my  mother's  breast.  There  was  no  sabbath 
where  I  lived.  To  me  the  churches  of  which  you 
speak  were  only  public  buildings  :  I  had  no  right  to 
them,  nor  had  my  father.  I  went  to  school  ;  but  it 
was  to  wickedness.  I  graduated,  but  only  from  one 
degree  of  crime  to  another.  Thy  name  was  known 
only  to  give  emphasis  to  our  oaths  :  and  though  I 
lived  among  your  people,  as  you  call  them,  twenty 
years,  not  a  man  mentioned  the  name  of  Jesus  to  me  ; 
not  a  woman  gave  me  even  a  look,  save  of  disgust  or 
fear.  O  God !  bear  not  too  hard  upon  me,  but  re- 
member in  thy  judgment  my  hard  lot  on  earth." 

My  friends,  theirs  is  a  hard  lot.  A  child  born  last 
night  in  one  of  a  thousand  tenements  of  this  city  was 
born  to  a  life-long  curse.  It  is  not  that  he  is  born  to 
poverty  ;  that  can  be  borne,  and  not  kill.  And  some 
have  borne  it  in  the  silence  of  a  pride  that  jested 
away  its  bitterness,  and  made  themselves  insensible 
to  its  sting  by  their  indifference  :  they  took  their  crust 
in  patience,  and  made  mirth  of  it,  and  would  have  died 
from  sheer  starvation,  or  ever  they  had  given  up  a 
single  plan,  or  owned  that  they  were  beaten,  —  died 
with  a  curve  of  humor  on  their  lips,  saying,  "  Pover- 
ty, you  joined  issue  with  me  in  my  cradle  ;  and  I  have 
fought  you,  and  I  have  won  !  "  No :  the  curse  that 
burdens  them  is  not  poverty.    But  they  are  born  unto 


352    PERSONAL  ACQUAINTANCE   WITH   SINNERS 

the  curse  of  ignorance  and  its  lead-like  pressures ;  to 
the  curse  of  rank  appetite,  with  its  swinish  instincts; 
to  the  curse  "of  lust  engendered  of  drunkenness  and 
all  its  coarse  inflammations ;  to  the  curse  of  instinctive 
and  hereditary  knavery,  which  shall  not  miss  of  teach- 
ers ;  to  the  curse  of  days  that  have  no  honest  service, 
of  weeks  that  have  no  sabbath,  of  a  life  that  has  no 
God,  and  a  death  that  has  no  hope.  O  God !  why 
are  such  lives  repeated  ?  Why  are  such  creatures 
born  ?  Why  must  the  mould  and  mildew  and  rot  fas- 
ten forever  on  that  tree  which  thou  didst  plant  in 
Adam,  and  taint  with  their  bursting  offensiveness 
the  air  of  the  whole  world  ?  Is  there  no  change,  no 
blessed  change,  ahead?  —  no  cold,  dry  breeze  to  come 
from  some  point  of  the  round  heavens,  and  blow  its 
breath  upon  this  constantly-maturing  corruption,  and 
check  it  once  and  forever  ? 

There  is.  A  change  shall  come,  —  a  blessed  change. 
A  wind  shall  blow,  a  mystic  wind,  whence  and  whith- 
er we  know  not :  but  in  its  passing  it  shall  pass  over 
man ;  and  all  his  cleaving  defilement  shall  part  from 
him  and  fall  away,  and  human  nature  shall  be  as  in  the 
beginning,  —  fair  to  look  upon,  and  very  good.  There 
comes  a  prophecy  to  my  lips  of  that  great  day.  If 
Ignorance  has  ears,  let  her  listen  as  I  proclaim  it ;  for 
her  dull  eyes  shall  yet  be  lighted,  and  her  now  stolid 
features  become  mobile  with  intelligence.  Her 
swarms  shall  lose  their  look  of  squalor ;  and,  lifted  out 
of  their  degradation,  they  shall  sit,  whitefaced  and 
cleanly,  among  the  children  of  Wisdom.  Yea,  and  if 
Vice  could  hear  me,  if  I  had  a  power  within  me  to 


THE   MEANS  FOR  THEIR  REFORMATION.        353 

call  it  from  where  it  burrows  and  nests ;  if  I  could 
by  some  Ithuriel-like  touch  start  it  from  its  coiled 
concealment,  and  make  it  stand  impersonate  before 
you,  —  then  here  from  this  sacred  place,  where  Reli- 
gion, grander  in  nature  and  act  than  any  expression 
man  can  give  to  it,  has  her  home,  you  being  hearers 
and  witnesses, — here  would  I  pronounce  its  doom. 
Standing  over  against  it,  apprehending  all  its  power 
and  force  and  cunning,  all  its  alliances  and  combina- 
tions, and  the  strength  derived  therefrom,  would  I  say 
to  it,  "  Thy  day  is  set ;  the  leer  and  cunning  of  thy 
look  shall  leave  thy  face,  the  brutality  of  thy  neck  be 
sweated  off;  thy  brow  shall  lift,  thy  wicked  shrewd- 
ness be  changed  to  useful  skill,  thy  pilfering  fingers 
acquaint  themselves  with  honest  industry ;  and,  being 
by  the  power  of  God  renewed  in  nature,  the  force 
and  energy  of  all  thy  powers  shall  be  devoted  unto 
him  and  man." 

Say  not  that  this  is  wild  prediction.  Do  not  call 
my  words  extravagant.  Let  not  my  prophecy  fail 
through  your  unbelief.  This  thing  shall  be,  must  be  ; 
for  he  who  speaks  along  the  line  of  God's  purposes 
speaks  safely.  And  the  divine  wish  is,  —  who  can 
doubt  it? — that  Boston,  through  all  its  streets  and 
squares,  in  all  its  trade  and  commerce,  in  all  its  art 
and  science  and  out-blossoming  culture,  yea,  and  in 
its  every  household,  shall  be  Christian.  Bring  out  the 
banner,  then ;  the  banner  of  God ;  the  banner  of  the 
cross  and  star  ;  the  banner  which  has  led  the  van  of 
the  world's  progress  for  these  two  thousand  years.  — 
Why,  there  are  flags  in  yonder  Capitol  that  men  have 


354   PERSONAL  ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  SINNERS 

followed  proudly  to  death.  There  may  be  those 
within  the  sound  of  my  voice  whose  eyes  have  seen 
those  tattered  ensigns  amid  the  dust  of  battle.  You 
saw  them  wave  amid  whirling  smoke  and  the  fiery 
flame  of  war,  and  stood  to  your  arms  beneath  them, 
when  the  air  was  thick  with  shot  and  shell,  and  brave 
men  fell  around  you  like  autumn-leaves.  And  you 
shall  have  your  fame.  It  shall  live  in  chiselled  mar- 
ble and  the  breathings  of  music.  The  granite,  proud 
of  such  alliance,  shall  wed  your  immortality  with  its 
endurance,  and  your  fame  shall  never  be  forgotten 
among  men :  for  America,  the  latest  born  among  na- 
tions, and,  as  I  hold,  the  greatest,  in  her  destiny  has 
taken  you  to  herself,  as  those  who  saved  her  in  peril, 
and  she  will  love  you  until  death  ;  and  when  America 
—  the  America  that  is  to  be  —  dies,  the  world  dies. 

But  what  are  earthly  compared  to  spiritual  victo- 
ries ?  and  what  are  those  tattered  flags  at  the  Capitol 
beside  the  banner  under  which  the  armies  of  God 
march  on  ?  What  are  they  ?  Nothing.  They  are  like 
rags  beside  the  vesture  of  a  king.  They  type  the 
strength  of  man  :  this  gives  expression  to  the  power 
of  God.  They  symbolize  an  earthly  nationality  :  this 
publishes  to  the  wide  universe  the  name  of  Him  who 
is  King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords.  —  Bring  out  this 
banner,  then,  I  say,  —  the  banner  of  God,  the  banner 
of  the  cross  and  star,  —  and  give  it  to  me,  and  let  me 
plant  it  here  ;  and  as  its  folds  stream  out  like  waves 
of  living  light  that  chase  each  other,  coming  out  of 
distance,  and  go  into  distance,  crested  with  murmur 
and  music,  keeping  their  full  swell,  tell  me  as  you  see 


THE   MEANS   FOR  THEIR  REFORMATION.        355 

it  with  its  emblazonry — the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Ju- 
dah  — of  burnished  gold  on  a  blue  field,  and  hear  the 
swelling  of  its  undulations,  —  tell  me,  I  say,  if  those 
who  stand  marshalled  beneath  it,  clothed  in  the  full 
armor  of  God,  shall  not  go  on  to  victory.  My  friends, 
the  man  who  doubts  is  infidel  against  God  and  the 
great  destiny  of  man. 


SABBATH  MORNING,  OCT.  1,  1871. 


SERMON. 


TOPIC- LOVE  THE  SOURCE  OF  OBEDIENCE. 
"If  a  man  love  Me,  he  will  keep  My  words."— John  xiv.  23. 

I  THINK  there  is  nothing  that  a  sincere  Christian 
more  desires  than  to  keep  the  commandments  of 
Christ.  He  is  so  thoroughly  persuaded  of  their  essen- 
tial worthiness,  he  so  fully  and  willingly  acknowl- 
edges the  obligation  they  impose,  the  Scripture  has 
so  educated  him  to  regard  them  as  tests  of  piety,  that 
he  has  become  very  sensitive  upon  the  subject ;  and 
years  only  serve  to  increase  this  sensitiveness.  These 
commandments  are  so  inherently  just,  so  conducive 
to  the  defence  of  his  own  virtue,  so  conservative  to 
public  morals,  so  salutary  to  society  at  large,  that  he 
longs  to  obey  the  voice  of  Him  who  spake  as  never 
man  spake.  But  human  nature  is  human  nature 
still ;  and  lapses  occur  daily.  At  no  time  have 
we  found  ourselves  doing:  the  whole  "law  of  the 
Lord."  Temptations  come,  and  are  yielded  to ;  and 
the  more  anxious  we  are  to  stand  in  all  the  ordinances 
of  the  law  blameless,  the  more  we  are  convicted  of 
failure.     Effort  is  constant ;  and  yet  we  do  not  attain. 

356 


LOVE  THE   SOURCE   OF  OBEDIENCE.  357 

Baffled  and  discouraged,  men  are  continually  tempted 
to  say,  "  Jt  cannot  be  done  ;  human  nature  can  never 
succeed  ;  J  will  do  the  best  I  can,  and  leave  my  fail- 
ures in  the  hands  of  God's  mercy." 

Now,  I  doubt  if  there  is  a  single  true  professor  in 
divine  presence  here  this  morning  but  that  has  felt 
this  feeling  a  thousand  times.  You  never  have  suc- 
ceeded in  entirely  doing  what  you  feel  you  should  do, 
what  you  heartily  desire  to  do  ;  and  failure  has  at 
last  made  you  indifferent  or  despondent.  You  have 
either  given  over  the  attempt,  settled  down  into  the 
conviction  that  obedience  is  beyond  your  power,  and 
thence  are  feeding  your  hopes  with  a  false  consolation  ; 
or  else,  while  you  keep  on  trying  and  trying,  feel 
you  shall  never  succeed.  You  do  not  impeach  the 
propriety  of  the  demand ;  but  you  do  despair  of  full 
and  triumphant'  compliance. 

Now,  both  of  these  feelings  are  bad.  They  are  in- 
jurious to  Christian  growth  ;  they  put  an  indirect 
aspersion  upon  God ;  they  sap  the  very  foundations 
of  that  structure  which  the  Holy  Ghost  seeks  to  rear 
within  us,  and  in  order  to  build  which,  faith  and 
works  must  enter  in  equal  proportions. 

But,  friends,  may  it  not  be  that  our  ill  success  is 
due  to  some  other  causes  than  those  to  which  we  at- 
tribute it  ?  May  it  not  be  that  we  have  misunder- 
stood the  philosophy  of  the  subject,  and  fail  to  appro- 
priate the  forces  which  would  have  surely  pushed  us 
on  toward  success  ?  Whence,  then,  comes  the  power  ? 
What  and  where  is  this  divine  energy,  which,  were 
it  constantly  in  our  hearts,  would,  with  a  sweet,  an 


358     LOVE  THE  SOURCE  OF  OBEDIENCE. 

irresistible  authority,  —  an  authority  that  we  should 
gladly  recognize  and  yield  to,  —  command  obedience  ? 

It  seems  to  me  that  Christ,  in  the  passage  we  have 
read  as  our  text,  has  suggested  the  true  philosophy  to 
us,  pointed  out  the  true  source  of  power  to  his  fol- 
lowers :  "  If  ye  love  me,  ye  will  keep  my  command- 
ments.' '  Please  attend  while  I  unfold  this  sugges- 
tion before  you.  Listen,  and  inwardly  digest  what  I 
say. 

Love  is  a  passion ;  and  the  strongest,  most  uncon- 
querable forces  in  human  nature  are  the  passions. 
There  is  a  freshet-like  sweep  to  them.  Like  rivers 
in  spring-time,  when  the  snows  are  melting  on  the 
mountains,  and  the  clouds,  driven  by  south  winds,  are 
emptying  their  waters  upon  the  earth,  they  rise  and 
swell,  and  surge  and  overflow,  submerging  the  whole 
nature.  How  this  current  sweeps  on,  roaring  as  it 
goes  !  Every  faculty  is  covered,  and  judgment  is  but 
a  little  skiff,  tossing  about  on  the  waves,  spun  around 
in  the  eddies,  and  borne  on  by  the  headlong  flow. 
And  whoever  has  watched  himself,  or  observed  men, 
to  any  purpose,  knows  that  the  passions  are  the 
strongest  forces  of  our  nature. 

There  is  one  mistake  almost  every  one  makes. 
Parents  make  it ;  teachers  make  it ;  government 
makes  it.  It  is  this :  they  mistake  the  nature  and  the 
origin  of  passion.  They  act  as  if  passions  were  evil 
by  nature,  and  devilish  in  their  origin.  This  is  not  so. 
God  is  the  parent  of  our  passions :  he  begat  love,  and 
said,  "  It  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law ; "  that  is,  the  force 
out  of  which  all  obedience  comes.     Not  that  love  it- 


LOVE    THE   SOURCE   OF  OBEDIENCE.  359 

self  fulfils  the  law ;  for  no  sentiment  can  take  the 
place  of,  can  do  away  with,  works  :  but  love  is  the  ful- 
filment of  the  law  in  that  out  of  it  comes  all  fulfilment 
of  the  law  ;  it  is  the  central  wheel ;  it  is  the  great  belt 
which  impels  in  needed  revolution  every  shaft  and 
wheel  in  the  entire  establishment,  —  just  as  we  say 
of  a  man,  "  That  man's  fortune  is  in  his  brains."  Not 
that  it  is  in  dollars  and  cents  actually  there  ;  not  that 
stores  and  blocks  of  granite  are  really  within  the  cir- 
cumference of  his  skull :  but  that  within  his*  brain  are 
the  forces  that  shall  win  the  wealth,  construct  the 
buildings,  which  represent  his  fortune.  This  is  what 
we  mean  when  we  say  that  a  man's  fortune  is  in 
his  brain ;  and  that  is  what  God  means  when  he 
says  in  Scripture  that  "  love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the 
law." 

It  is  in  the  perversion,  and  not  in  the  nature,  of  the 
passions,  that  you  see  their  wickedness.  The  sin  is  in 
their  misdirection,  and  not  in  their  origin.  How  else 
can  you  explain  the  charge  of  the  apostle,  "Be  ye 
angry,  and  sin  not  "  ?  Did  he  not  plainly  teach,  not 
only  the  rank  and  inherent  worth  of  a  passion,  but 
also  the  propriety  and  innocence  of  its  legitimate  ex- 
ercise ?  Why,  the  very  conception  of  a  man  is  as  a 
passionate  creature  (I  use  the  word  in  its  higher 
sense,  of  course).  You  might  as  well  say  that  a  cur- 
rent is  a  current  when  there  is  no  motion  to  it,  or  air 
is  air  with  no  oxygen  in  it,  as  that  man  is  man  if  he  is 
devoid  of  passion  ;  for  he  was  made  in  the  image  of 
God,  and  everywhere  in  Scripture  God  speaks  of  him- 
self as  a  passionate  being.     He  "  hates  "  and  "  loves  " 


360      LOVE  THE  SOURCE  OF  OBEDIENCE. 

and  "  laughs  "  and  "  pities."  At  the  heart  of  all  in- 
telligence is  glow  and  warmth,  and  possibilities  of  ex- 
citement and  heat.  Passion  is  that  vital  and  vitalizing 
force  in  human  nature  that  makes  it  to  leaf  and  flower 
and  fructify.  In  its  sanctified  forms  you  see  the 
Godlike  in  man  ;  in  its  debased,  the  satanic.  When 
pure,  when  refined,  when  noble,  you  see  in  it  the 
beneficence  of  a  God ;  when  stained,  gross,  and  de- 
praved, the  malevolence  of  a  devil. 

Now,  when  Christ,  the  greatest  and  wisest  of  all 
teachers,  came,  he  understood  this.  He  knew  the  use 
of  passion  ;  for  it  was  his  own  child.  He  created  man 
with  it.  He  knew,  too,  its  potency ;  for,  when  man 
was  begotten,  he  supplied  it  to  him  in  due  measure 
and  force.  When  he  began  to  teach,  he  claimed  his 
child.  He  did  not  go  to  the  conscience,  and  say, 
"  Convict;  "  he  did  not  go  to  the  reverential  faculty, 
and  say,  "  Adore  ;  "  he  did  not  go  to  the  reason, 
and  say,  "  Argue,  speculate."  No  :  he  did  not  go  to 
these  weaker,  these  outlying,  these  marginal  forces : 
he  went  straight  and  at  once  to  the  great  central  force 
in  Nature,  —  to  that  engine-like  power  in  man,  which 
has  power  not  merely  to  propel  itself,  but  to  start  all 
the  long  train  of  faculties  that  are  behind  it,  and  de- 
pendent upon  it,  into  motion.  He  went  directly  to 
this,  I  say,  and  said,  "  Love."  In  all  his  teachings,  he 
never  forgot  this.  It  runs  through  all  his  words  and 
acts,  clinging  to  them,  and  making  itself  prominent, 
as  a  minor  cord  in  music  makes  itself  heard  amid  the 
rush  of  contending  sounds  by  its  clear  quietness,  and, 
when  the  crash  of  the  chorus  has  ceased,  still  clings 


LOVE   THE   SOURCE   OF   OBEDIENCE.  3G1 

to  the  atmosphere,  as  if  unwilling  to  leave  it ;  and 
you  feel  that  that  clear,  quiet  strain  has  dominated  by 
its  very  sweetness  over  all  the  other  parts. 

"When  you  are  at  home  to-da}^  and  have  time  to 
digest  what  I  am  saying,  recall  what  the  Scriptures 
assert  touching  this  matter,  and  you  will  see  hoiv  true 
this  remark  is.  Christ  used  it  everywhere.  In  the 
case  of  the  poor  wicked  woman,  whose  tears  fell  on 
his  feet  when  he  was  at  dinner  with  the  Pharisee,  he 
made  it  the  measure  of  forgiveness.  It  was  because 
she  loved  much  that  she  was  forgiven  much.  He 
made  it  the  source  of  all  obedience,  as  in  our  text : 
"  If  ye  love  me,  ye  will  keep  my  commandments." 
His  prayer  for  his  disciples  was,  "  That  they  might  be 
one  in  love  as  I  and  the  Father  are  one."  The  apos- 
tle John,  speaking,  remember,  by  inspiration,  made  it 
the  test  of  regeneration  :  "  If  ye  love  not  your  bro- 
ther whom  ye  have  seen,  how  can  ye  love  God  whom 
you  have  not  seen  ?  "  And,  as  if  he  would  put  it  so 
that  all  eyes  that  are  ever  lifted  in  prayer  must  see  it, 
he  seized  his  pen  again,  and  wrote  across  the  very  face 
of  his  exhortation,  in  letters  that  glow  to-day,  and  will 
while  the  Bible  is  read,  with  the  fervor  of  his  desire, 
"God  is  love."  Let  us  say  no  more,  friends  ;  for  that 
exhausts  the  resources  of  statement,  and  lifts  the  mind 
to  a  summit  beyond  which  it  cannot  mount. 

But,  second,  I  would  remark  that  it  is  no  more  true 
that  love  is  inherent  and  divine  in  its  origin,  that  it 
is  made  the  central  and  majestic  force  in  the  divine 
economy  over  man's  growth,  than  that  it  requires  a 
person  to  elicit  it. 

16 


362     LOVE  THE  SOURCE  OP  OBEDIENCE. 

Regarded  as  a  sentiment,  love  is  possible  in  respect 
to  principles  ;  but,  regarded  as  a  passion,  it  is  possible 
only  touching  a  person.  No  one  dies  for  abstract 
truth.  Idealize  it,  connect  it  with  something  tan- 
gible, and  man  will  die  for  it,  —  not  before.  Even  then 
his  self-sacrifice  is  impelled  by  regard,  necessity,  or 
the  force  of  collateral  circumstances.  A  patriot  does 
not  lay  down  his  life  for  liberty  in  the  front  rank  of 
battle  with  the  same  feeling  which  fills  the  bosom  of  a 
frontiersman  when  he  dies  fighting  at  the  door  of  his 
log-cabin  in  an  heroic  attempt  to  defend  his  wife  and 
children  from  the  murderous  savages.  We  admire 
beauty  ;  we  reverence  virtue ;  we  praise  modesty  as 
elements  of  character :  but  never  until  these  are  em- 
bodied, until  the  eyes  behold  them  clothed  in  physical 
form,  never  until  the  woman,  who,  we  believe,  repre- 
sents these  qualities,  stands  before  us,  do  we  love 
them.  The  qualities  we  admire  ;  the  woman  we  love. 
Here,  at  this  point,  you  see  how  love  educates  one  in 
worthy  directions.  The  man  loves  the  woman,  the 
woman  the  man,  and  each  the  qualities  that  the  other 
represents.  Each  educates  the  other  into  a  finer  ap- 
preciation, a  truer  regard,  a  higher  emulation,  of  the 
virtues  each  embody  ;  and  thus,  as  Tennyson  sings, 

"  They  grow  together, 
Dwarfed  or  Godlike,  bond  or  free." 

They  grow  to  be  each  more  like  the  other,  —  the 
man  more  like  the  woman,  she  liker  to  the  man. 
In  this  great  love  of  assimilation  going  on  between 


LOVE   THE   SOURCE   OF   OBEDIENCE.  363 

those  who  truly  love,  based  on  the  apprehension  of 
embodied  virtues,  I  find  the  true  source  of  that  grati- 
tude in  my  heart,   that  God  took  flesh,  and  dwelt 
among  us.     Before  Christ  came,  God  was  an  abstrac- 
tion, a  collection  of  powers  and  principles,  august 
and  lovely,  known  to  the  reason,  the  conscience,  the 
reverential  faculties,  but  not  to  the  warm,  passionate 
side  of  human  nature.     Idolatry  always  had  this  one 
bright  side  to  it,  this  one  warm  ray  lying  aslant  the 
waves  that  rolled  men  onward  only  to  wreck.    On  the 
part  of  the  honest  and  ignorant  devotees,  the  image 
of  wood  or  stone,  however  rude,  however  grotesque, 
embodied  God.      Their  minds  were  too  weak,  too 
darkened,  too  ignorant,  to  conceive  of  abstract  quali- 
ties.    As  you  cannot  make  a  babe  understand  any 
thing  of  the  existence  and  offices  of  maternity  save  by 
the  clasped  form  of  the  mother ;  so  these  poor  weak- 
lings —  babes  in  intellect,  in  moral  apprehension  — 
knew  nothing  of  God  save  as  they  saw  him  with  their 
eyes.   They  wanted  a  tangible  deity,  —  one  they  could 
bring  their  offerings  of  fruit  and  wine  to  personally, 
and  go  away  feeling  that  they  had  ministered  to  his 
happiness.     Alas  that  any  on  this  earth  of  ours  are 
ignorant  to-day  that  the  "  Word  was  made  flesh  "  ! 
Alas  that  they  know  not  of  Him  who  was  in  all  points 
like  as  they  are,  save  as  to  their  sins  !     And  may  God 
forgive  us,  who,  having  this  living,  breathing,  personal 
Saviour  revealed  to  us,  love  him  so  little  !     What  will 
you  say  when  these  poor  heathen,  in  their  longings 
and  strugglings  and  gropings  for  that  one  thing  which 
you  have,  and  will  not  take,  shall  condemn  you  ? 


364  LOVE   THE   SOURCE   OF   OBEDIENCE. 

Who  of  you  is  it,  friends,  that  is  meant  when  the 
Scripture  says,  "  The  first  shall  be  last,  and  the  last 
first  "  ?  And  yet  you  would  not  think,  civilized,  cul- 
tured, and  amiable  as  you  are,  to  put  yourself  on  the 
level  of  a  heathen  before  God. 

We  have  now  advanced  so  far,  friends,  that  we  can 
begin  to  understand  the  text.  "  If  ye  love  me"  said 
Christ :  observe,  he  did  not  say,  "  If  you  love  the  prin- 
ciples I  represent,  if  you  believe  the  truth  I  teach,  if 
you  imitate  my  virtue,  you  will  keep  my  command- 
ments ;  "  but  he  said,  "  If  you  love  we,"  me  the  per- 
son, me  the  incarnate  God,  me  your  Lord  and  Master, 
me  your  Elder  Brother,  "you  will  keep  my  command- 
ments." Do  not  forget  this  distinction,  friends.  Do 
not  fail  to  revolve  it  in  your  minds  as  you  go  down  to 
your  homes.  It  is  not  truth,  b  it  t  Him  who  is  the  "  Truth 
and  the  Life,"  you  are  to  love.  It  is  not  virtue,  but 
Him  who  embodies  it,  you  are  to  admire.  It  is  not 
power,  but  Him  who  wields  it  with  the  heart  of  a 
lover  and  the  hand  of  a  friend,  you  are  to  address  in 
prayers.  It  is  not  purity,  white  as  a  marble  statue, 
robed  in  snowy  drapery,  you  are  to  admire,  but  Him, 
the  warm,  living  embodiment  of  it,  whose  absolute 
stainlessness  is  tinted  with  the  warm  glow  of  his  hu- 
manity, and  whose  form  is  not  of  chiselled  alabaster, 
immobile  and  rigid,  but  vibrant  with  sympathy,  and 
as  sensitive  to  emotion  as  a  happy  mother  to  the  touch 
and  cry  of  her  first-born. 

Is  it  not  just  at  this  point  that  we  are  able  to  see 
why  religion  is  so  cold  and  unexpressive  in  the  case 
of  almost  all  of  us  ?     Our  philosophy  is  at  fault.     We 


LOVE  THE  SOURCE  OF  OBEDIENCE.     865 

have  put  truth  in  front  of  Him  who  revealed  it.  We 
keep  the  principles,  but  lose  the  person,' of  Christ. 
We  associate  our  lives,  in  their  growth,  with  a  few 
great  principles,  instead  of  with  the  one  great  God. 
We  have  preached  to  defend  and  explain  creeds  more 
than  to  present  Jesus  to  the  hearer.  We  have  lost 
.sight  of  the  sun  in  our  eager  chase  to  capture  the  sun- 
beams ;  and  Christ  might  sa}r,  in  a  voice  which  should 
have  in  it  the  sadness  and  rebuke  of  all  the  ages, 
"  You  have  loved  my  doctrines  more  than  you  have 

Why,  whence  comes  the  charm  of  love,  and  loving 
life  ?  Is  it  not  grouped  around  some  person,  as  fra- 
grance around  a  flower  ?  Does  it  not  come  from  the 
eye,  the  voice,  the  face,  the  form,  of  the  one  beloved  ? 
Let  the  loved  form  be  stricken,  the  voice  silent,  the 
eye  veiled  beneath  the  fringed  drapery  of  the  lid, 
nevermore  at  any  call  of  yours  - — whether  of  soft 
whisper  or  agonizing  scream  —  to  open,  and  where  is 
the  charm  of  your  love  gone  ?  It  is  gone  out,  I  an- 
swer, with  the  personal  life  that  expressed  it ;  gone 
with  the  soul  when  it  passed  in  its  midnight  flight  : 
gone  as  the  fragrance  goes  when  you  shake  the  leaves 
of  the  rose  from  their  fastenings ;  gone  back  to  God  who 
gave  it;  and  "your  house  is  left  unto  you  desolate." 
What  is  domestic  life  now  ?  It  is  what  a  fountain  of 
marble  and  bronze  is  when  the  waters  have  ceased  to 
play ;  when  the  sound  of  the  pattering  and  splashing 
of  the  spray  is  gone,  the  jets  no  longer  mark  their  tiny 
curves  in  the  air,  and  the  tinted  bubbles  no  longer 
dance  amid  the  ripples  at  the  base.     And  what  is  re- 


366         •  LOVE  THE  SOURCE  OF   OBEDIENCE. 

ligious  life  when  the  face  and  form  of  Jesus  are  gone 
from  the  chamber  of  your  heart ;  when  you  no  longer 
hear  his  voice  as  the  voice  of  a  loved  one  singing  in  the 
streets ;  when  you  no  longer  meet  the  gaze  of  his 
eyes  that  look  lovingly  into  yours  as  you  look  lov- 
ingly into  them  ;  when  his  face  lies  as  the  face  of  one 
stretched  on  his  bier,  covered  decorously  with  the 
cold  linen  of  form  and  ceremony,  that  winding-sheet 
of  true  piety  ;  when  you  see  no  more  his  dear  form 
walking  at  early  morn  and  eventide  in  the  garden 
of  your  soul,  greeted  and  refreshed  by  the  sweetness 
of  all  your  faculties,  yielded  forth  in  loving  homage 
unto  him  ?  What,  I  say,  is  religious  life,  with  no  living 
Master  and  Lord  in  it,  but  a  cold,  silent,  embarrassed, 
constrained,  and  mournful  state,  as  I  fear  it  is  too 
often  with  all  of  us  ? 

You  hear  people  say  that  the  absence  of  religious 
emotion  in  our  churches  and  among  the  upper 
classes  is  due  to  their  culture  and  refinement.  It  is 
not  so.  The  argument  proves  too  much.  Love  is  not 
subject  to  such  modification.  Who  would  say  that  a 
cultivated  person  cannot  love  as  intensely  as  a  rude 
one  ?  Must  a  young  man  marry  an  ignorant  girl  in 
order  to  be  loved?  Must  a  girl  go  to  an  unedu- 
cated, an  undeveloped,  a  coarse-grained  man  to  find 
an  affectionate  husband?  Do  you  think  that  true 
love  has  one  mode  of  expression  on  Beacon  Hill,  and 
another  in  North  Street?  Is  not  the  sweet  kiss, 
the  loving  word,  the  gentle  caress,  the  charitable 
patience,  the  same  in  the  palace  and  the  cottage? 
Why,  this  sublime  passion  has  but  one  voice,  one  touch, 


LOVE  THE   SOURCE  OF  OBEDIENCE.  367 

the  world  over.  Like  some  bird,  true  to  its  species, 
that  inhabits  every  clime,  its  food,  its  plumage,  its 
mode  of  birth  and  growth,  its  note,  are  everywhere  the 
same.  Oh  !  the  birds  of  love  fly  everywhere.  Like 
the  ravens  that  fed  the  prophet,  they  are  seen  only 
by  those  whom  they  feed :  but  every  eye  that  sees 
them  coming  is  lighted  with  the  vision  of  the  same 
bright  form ;  and  every  ear  that  hears  them  at  all 
thrills  to  the  same  sweet  music.  I  know  well  that 
some  have  the  power  more  than  others.  There  are 
gradations  between  men  in  the  emotional  as  truly  as 
in  the  intellectual  forces.  I  have  known  women  who 
had  a  talent  for  loving  they  were  not  learned  nor 
brilliant  women,  but  they  had  a  wonderful  gift  to 
love  ;  and,  above  all  others  I  have  ever  met,  such 
women  are  blessed.  What  a  home  theirs  is  !  What 
wives,  what  mothers,  they  make  !  They  are  to  their 
houses  what  a  lily  is  to  a  room :  they  fill  it  with 
sweetness  without  an  effort.  I  never  see  such  a  one 
but  that  I  realize  the  significance  of  the  old  Oriental 
beatitude,  "  Blessed  is  the  tent  that  covers  a  loving 
woman."  I  recognize  this  difference,  I  say:  but  it  is 
a  difference  in  natural  endowment,  and  not  of  condi- 
tion ;  and  nowhere  should  the  emotional  element  be 
found  in  richer  development,  nowhere  should  a 
warm,  tender,  joyful  love  for  Christ  exist  in  greater 
measure,  than  among  those  most  favored  in  culture 
and  refinement.  The  fields  that  have  a  southern  ex- 
posure should  have  not  only  the  most,  but  the  sweet- 
est flowers. 

A  word  now  touching  the  power  of  love. 


868     LOVE  THE  SOURCE  OF  OBEDIENCE. 

Obedience  is  the  hardest  of  all  things,  for  those 
naturally  inclined  not  to  obey,  to  do.  It  is  so  with  a 
child.  There  is  not  one  of  us  who  did  not  find  it  so 
in  childhood.  And  it  is  therefore  necessary  to  bring 
the  strongest  possible  motive  to  bear  upon  the  child, 
that  he  may  obey.  The  strongest  part  of  the  dam 
should  be  that  against  which  the  current  sets.  This 
is  true  with  Christians ;  for  we  are  all  but  little  chil- 
dren in  our  relation  to  the  government  of  God. 
Therefore  it  is  that  Christ  points  out  to  us  the 
strongest  possible  motive,  "  love." 

But  you  say,  "  My  children  love  me  ;  but  they  do  not 
mind  me.  That  motive  does  not  make  them  obedient. 
I  have  to  re-enforce  it  by  other  ones,  —  as  hope  of  re- 
ward, fear  of  punishment."  Possibly.  But  observe, 
here  is  the  statement,  Christ's  own  language :  you 
see  what  he  says  ;  and,  by  analogy  and  all  reasoning, 
the  same  law  should  be  true  between  you  and  your 
children  as  is  true  between  him  and  us.  But  reflect 
a  minute.  I  am  given  to  doubt  your  statement.  Let 
me  inquire,  have  you  ever  shown  your  child  the 
connection  between  your  love  and  his  disobedience, 
between  your  heart  and  his  wrong  conduct?  Have 
you  made  the  little  fellow  understand  how  his  be- 
havior hurts  you  ?  Has  he  seen  pain,  real  pain,  or 
anger,  in  your  face,  when  you  caught  him  in  mischief? 
Have  you  sought  to  restrain  him  (pardon  the  expres- 
sion) as  you  would  a  young  dog,  —  by  the  stamp  of 
your  foot  and  the  glance  of  your  eye  ?  or  as  a  parent 
should,  — by  moral  education  ?  Some  people  appeal 
more  to  brnte  fear  in  their  children  than  they  do  to 


LOVE  THE  SOURCE  OF  OBEDIENCE.  369 

human  love.  Never  will  I  believe,  that  when  a  child 
is  able  to  understand,  has  been  taught  to  perceive 
the  relation  between  love  and  obedience,  he  will  not 
yield  himself  a  willing  captive  to  a  yoke  so  easy  and 
a  burden  so  light :  at  least,  I  found  it  so.  It  was  the 
only  thing  that  ever  ruled  me,  if  I  ever  was  ruled  at 
all. 

I  know  this,  and  so  do  you,  that  love  is  the  strongest 
passion  known  to  mortals.  It  is  stronger  than  hate, 
that  sleuthhound  of  devilishness,  which  no  distance 
tires,  no  threat  intimidates  ;  for  death  checks  its  cry, 
and  puts  a  stop  to  the  chase.  Leaving  the  bloody 
body  on  the  sand,  it  returns  content  to  its  kennel. 
But  love  is  not  checked,  is  not  weakened,  by  death. 
Amid  its  bereavement  it  sings  like  a  bird  that  awakes 
in  the  night,  and  sends  its  clear  song  fearlessly  out 
into  the  darkness.  I  have  seen  a  young  wife  and 
mother  stand  above  the  mound  beneath  which  slept 
both  husband  and  child.  In  one  hand  she  held  a  bud, 
in  the  other  a  broken  bough.  She  planted  the  rose 
at  the  head,  and  the  shrub  at  the  foot,  of  the  grave. 
In  a  year,  another  coffin  was  lowered  to  the  side  of 
the  two,  and  her  form  slept  by  those  she  loved.  But 
the  bud  grew  until  it  became  a  bush,  covered  with 
flowers,  and  the  branch  became  a  tree  ;  and,  as  I 
looked  at  the  two,  I  said,  "  These  are  the  symbols  of 
human  love  :  the  one  struck  its  roots  into  the  soil  of 
death,  and  was  grown  on  what  men  call  its  triumphs  ; 
the  other  has  added  to  its  life  a  thousand  times,  and 
from  an  emblem  of  grief  has  been  changed  by  the 

16* 


370  LOVE  THE  SOURCE  OF  OBEDIENCE. 

nourishment  of  the  grave  into  the  emblem  of  joy." 
There  is  no  power,  I  say,  like  love.  It  will  carry 
heavier  burdens,  bear  more  yokes,  endure  more  buf- 
feting, do  more  service,  face  more  perils,  live  on  under 
the  sense  of  the  deepest  shame,  beyond  any  other 
emotion  that  the  heart  of  man  is  able  to  feel.  Its  face, 
as  I  picture  it,  is  like  the  face  of  an  angel,  born  from 
all  eternity  to  be  exalted,  —  born  for  a  throne,  for 
power,  for  principality ;  a  face  bearing  in  all  its  linea- 
ments the  image  of  the  Faultless ;  a  face  in  which 
sweetness  and  majesty  contend  as  the  hues  of  morn- 
ing contend  at  dawn  for  possession  of  the  eastern  sky, 
until  they  mingle  and  blend,  making  by  their  union 
the  perfect  light  of  the  full  day :  and  no  power,  no, 
not  even  sin  itself,  can  so  mar  its  features,  that  traces 
of  its  original  and  celestial  beauty  may  not  be  seen 
amid  the  wreck  and  ruin  of  its  once  glorious  counte- 
nance. Go  to  the  dungeon  ;  and  through  the  grated 
door  its  voice  comes  forth,  saying,  "  Behold  !  walls  of 
stone  cannot  compress  me  ;  fetter  and  bar  cannot  bind 
me  ;  chill  and  dampness  cannot  stop  the  warm  current 
of  my  veins."  Go  to  the  stake  ;  and,  when  you  thought 
to  hear  only  the  scream  of  agony,  you  see  an  eye  lighted 
with  the  assurance  of  hope,  and  catch  the  voice  of 
song  cleaving  the  flame.  Go  to  the  rack,  —  to  those 
chambers  of  torture  in  which  canning  invention  is 
taxed  to  supply  the  forces  of  cruelty,  —  and  hear  it  ex- 
claim, while  bar  and  cord,  pulley  and  pincer,  are  being 
plied,  "  You  can  tear  and  rend  this  body  limb  from 
limb,  and  joint  from  joint :   but  me  you  cannot  rend ; 


LOVE  THE  SOURCE  OF  OBEDIENCE.     371 

me  you  cannot  destroy.  You  can  batter  down  the 
door  ;  you  can  level  the  walls  of  my  habitation  :  but  I, 
I  shall  fly  forth  at  death  into  the  larger  liberty,  the 
larger  life,  of  my  native  skies." 

This,  friends,  is  the  passion  to  which  Christ  ap- 
pealed when  pointing  out  to  his  disciples  the  great 
motive  of  obedience.  This  is  that  sublime,  inde- 
structible passion,  that  great  gulf-stream  of  influence, 
which  flows  through  the  frozen  ocean  of  our  lives, 
bringing  summer  and  song  and  the  fragrance  of  all  the 
tropics  in  its  train.  Upon  islands  belted  with  ice,  along 
shores  white  with  frozen  surf,  against  those  huge 
bulks,  those  embodiments  of  winter  lifting  their  glis- 
tening peaks  like  mountains  above  the  waves,  yet 
reaching  down  into  the  depths  deeper  than  their  sum- 
mits are  borne  aloft,  —  against  all  that  is  icy  and  cold 
and  petrified  in  our  hearts,  I  invoke  the  current  of 
this  celestial  passion  to  flow.  Oh,  pour  upon  us,  thou 
mighty  river,  whose  source  is  hidden  in  the  far-off 
spiritual  tropics  !  —  pour  upon  us  the  full  tide  of  thy 
latent  and  immeasurable  heat,  until  our  hearts  are 
melted  and  mingled  in  thy  fervid  stream.  Come 
nearer  to  us,  thou  stream  of  God !  make  short  our 
winters,  and  prolong  our  summers  ;  breathe  thy  moist 
warmth  into  our  atmosphere,  until  the  air  is  sweet 
and  musical  with  scent  of  flowers,  and  voice  of  tune- 
ful birds. 

I  put  the  Lord  in  his  own  proper  person  before  you. 
He  speaks  :  the  mystery  is  no  longer  nrysterious.  My 
hand   has   found   the  clew  that  leads   me  from   the 


372     LOVE  THE  SOURCE  OF  OBEDIENCE. 

labyrinth  of  vain  endeavor  ;  light  breaks  on  the  eyes 
that  groped  so  long  in  darkness :  for  he  says  to  me,  to 
you,  to  all,  "If  ye  love  me,  ye  will  keep  my  com- 
mandments." 


